Alphas, Bitches & Liars
by Bubbiiful
Summary: You think you can trust your best friend to keep your darkest secrets, right? Then how come they're all leaked out in the public even when she's dead? "Westchester, the city is big, but the secrets are even bigger." Multiple chapters/flashbacks/pairings. A take on Pretty Little Liars. [On HIATUS]
1. Prologue

"You can trust me," She says.

Each of them seems hesitant and reluctant when she tells them one on one, they give a different answer.

"I don't know….I mean, it's really personal for me,"

"You'll laugh,"

"It's stupid, really,"

"I….I can't."

She pouts, with her sapphire coloured eyes twinkling, she knows the looks she's giving, makes her look like an innocent doll, "Come on," she reassures, "you can tell me, we're best friends."

"Well…..okay,"

"Just don't tell anyone, alright?"

"Fine, it's like this,"

"I just can't tell you, it's something I have to express on my own."

Her eyes widens in delight, when they individually whisper into her ear, on different occasions. She licks her lips and gives them a sympathetic nod as she listens. She's hanging onto every single word, and when they finish whispering, they pull away from her ear, all of them wearing the same expression on their face, _relief_ and then for a split second, their faces flicker with _worry_.

"Don't worry," she loudly announces, "your secret is safe with me," She gives each of them her signature sweet smile, "I'm so glad you told me, I always felt you and I had the closest friendship."

She lies to each of their faces, but not one of them notices. They're all so preoccupied with their own things and thoughts.

"Thanks, Claire."

"Good, I knew I could trust you,"

"It's feels great to at least tell someone,"

"I…I always felt that we had the tightest and closest bond,"

And on each separate occasion, Claire simply smiles, "I won't tell a soul, cross my heart and hope to _die._" She grabs their arms and raises her eyebrows, "It's just like that saying, a secret will _always_ be kept, if one person is _dead_,"

She notices how each of their faces drop, but all she does is smile and walks away.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Lisi Harrison owns the Clique.

The very short prologue of the story, explaining how each girl tells their secrets to Claire, one on one.

Exciting, yes? (sarcasm).

I just forgot to add it, in the beginning. My bad.


	2. How It All Began

"_I thought about how there are two types of secrets: the kind you__**want**__to keep in, and the kind you __**don't**__dare__to let out."_

_-Ally Carter (Don't Judge a Girl by her Cover)_

**[…]**

Imagine you're the loser, the outcast, the dork, the freak in all your classes. You know, the kid that nobody wants to talk to or to be seen around with, and when they do, it's only because they're forced to. And, you still remember all those painful taunts, snide remarks, giggling whispers and nasty insults that were directed to _you_, specifically. You sit in the very back corner of the classroom, with your hands folded or at times, fascinated by your newest drawing, and you sit here because the other kids are afraid to be near you, like somehow, if they accidently or unconsciously compliment the purple streak in your hair, they're immediately plague with a disease. Or, if they bumped into your desk—since they weren't paying attention—they knocked down your favourite white hand-knitted cap onto the floor, (remember that?) and when the realization of what they done appears on their face, they let out a small, shrilly yelp, their fingers hovering over your cap, deciding whether or not to pick it up. And when they finally make their decision and do pick it up, you give them the most friendly and sweetest smile you can muster, murmuring a big 'thank-you' to them, only to frown once again, when you see their backs turn around. What's even worse is that you now see them running their sticky fingers up and down in their hair, for them, fearing they just caught a headful of lice from just picking up your cap.

Yeah, imagine that…..sound fake, right?

Well, you're wrong.

Only this imagination wasn't hard for one Westchester resident at all, because this so-called imagination was _real_.

This was the daily life and routine for a certain brown-haired girl for years. She was the loser in 3rd grade when decided to clip feathers in her hair, she was the outcast in the 4th grade because she made up phrases like 'ehmagawd', 'hawt' and 'nawt', she was the dork in the 5th grade because wore charm bracelets every day and she was the freak in the 6th grade because she had streaks of purple in her hair, and not to forget, she had abnormal coloured eyes, amber.

Life was hard for Massie Block for so many years. To be called all those names was disheartening for her. But you know what they say— what kills you, only makes you stronger—yet, this girl couldn't grasp this saying, she simply cared too much of what others said and thought about her. What bothered her the most was being labeled a 'freak'. The brunette never saw herself that way. When wore red torn leggings and matched it with muddy rain boots in one summer, that _wasn't_ being freaky, that was being _fashion forward_. Like the purple streak to say, nobody had the guts to do that in the entire 6th grade, except for her.

Being called a freak and all, of course you expect the girl to have no friends! Even the teacher didn't want to associate with the girl.

Poor little wittle, Massie.

But hey, to be fair, you have to admit it, even a robber would feel bad for this girl. Having no friends, being lonely and isolated from others is _shit_

Can you picture her life?

Now that you can, think about this: You're so use to this lifestyle, everyday being ignored and shunned by others. You think your life will never change, that you're destined to be alone and forever, to have no friends at all.

Then suddenly, in a minute,—_everything_ _changes_, just like that.

Now imagine this scenario, it's the last few days of summer during 6th grade and the days after, it's going to be the beginning of the 7th. All of the sudden, your amber eyes aren't view as freaky, but now 'cool'. People are now in awe and commenting about your quirky, yet sensible fashion style—even though you had this style for ages. And what is even better are the flocks of people—you know the ones who ignored and avoided you almost the entire time of your life? —are now coming up and saying 'hi' and they even ask to sit beside you during lunch.

Probably by this time, some of you are probably scratching your head (or ear, or neck, wherever you prefer) wondering why the sudden change.

Well that's easy, it was because of _her._

Claire Stacey Lyons.

The girl who was strikingly beautiful, with her willowy and pale blonde hair flowing down and caressing her even proportion heart-shape face. Her enormous doll-like eyes in the colour of sapphire and her lips red as ruby was envied by many girls. She was the most popular girl in the entire school, the girl everybody wanted to be _friends_ with and wanted to _be_ and the girl every guy wanted to be _with._

And now, for some odd reason, she's your _best_ friend.

The question to ask, though, was it _coincidence_ or _pure luck_ or _fate_ that the two of you bonded over the colour mauve in sixth grade art class? Was it coincidence that she was assigned to your art class? Was it pure luck that you both liked the colour mauve? Or was it fate for you two to meet and become best friends?

You shrug, and shake your head, you'll never know, because all you care about is now having friends. You're finally happy that you have a best friend and not to mention three other best friends too. They make you feel complete, a whole, they make you feel like the five of you were supposed to meet in the sixth grade, like all of you were pieces of long lost charms and had finally came together.

You're finally happy with your life, nothing will change it.

_Err_—wrong!

Remember, this is Westchester after all, this city is big, but the _secrets_ are even _bigger_.

In the beginning of seventh grade, all five of you hang out every day. Yet, lately, at the end of the year you notice the pale-blonde haired girl is missing and sometimes ditches the four of you. And this continued throughout the eighth grade as well. One day you discuss this with your other best friends saying stuff like, 'Why isn't she here?' or 'I hope she didn't leave us for other people,' the four of you, huddle together, whispering on why she isn't here with you guys. Then unexpectedly, she shows up out of nowhere and hears that the four of you have been gossiping about her. The redhead (your other best friend) pipes up and asks where she has been. The pale-blonde only shrugs and replies coolly, 'nowhere'.

You and your best friends know she's lying, but drop the conversation right away, as always. You don't want to piss her off and scare her away, if you do, you might have no friends again. Eventually, you find out where she was, but sadly, much much later.

You start to wonder, is she even your friend? Or is she using you? After all, the girl always seems to disappear and then appear out of nowhere.

_No_, you think, she is your friend; in fact she's one of your best friends, so why doubt her now?

Claire Lyons, _was_ a great friend —no, a great _best_ friend. She was the type who made you laugh and feel welcome. She was the type of person who made you comfortable even though the tension in the room was awkward. She was the kind of friend who would hang onto every word and detail to your story, even though you both knew she heard it a million times. She was the type who had secrets to tell and to hold—or so you thought.

She really was a great best friend. The memories you shared with her was locked in your head. And when you wanted to replay and relive them, your brain acted like a cinema, allowing you to rethink and re-watch those happy days and see her head thrown back as you laughed together.

But, there were times when you hated her. In fact, you detested, —no, _despised_ her pretty little guts. And at some point, you suspected your _other_ best friends _felt _the _same _way at times.

You hated her the time when she droned and nagged all over your purple streak saying it was 'uncool' and 'lame', finally she convinced you to re-dye that part —and you listened. Only to show up the next day at school, looking like an outcast, when everyone had their heads streaked. You argued with her, but all she did was wagged her finger at you, claiming that she had her eyes 'opened' and now thought, colour streaks in the hair was cool. You crinkled your eyebrows and pursed your pouty lips, and said nothing. After all, you been trying to pull this look off, for years, trying to be fashion forward, yet, it didn't work.

And remember the time that you really, _really_ hated her? The time you were crushing hard on this boy? That was the time when you first met him and danced with him during a charity event. And in an instant, you fell for him, when you noticed, he too, had abnormal coloured eyes—one green and one blue. And when you causally mentioned if he was invited to the Halloween dance you and your best friends were throwing, you were told by her, that yes, indeed he was going. Of course you started to become excited, you squealed and screamed, and then you smiled secretly. You wanted this crush to be a secret, only when you knew he liked you back is when you would tell them. Although, what you didn't see in her sapphire eyes, was that evil gleam. How it glittered all through the day, she _knew_. She knew you had a crush on the boy, but didn't say anything. And when it's finally time for the dance, you locked eyes onto him and the two of you started talking. Talking vigorously and laughing at everything the other one said, and then you put up a finger to signal 'hold on', this is_ it_, and you find your best friends to introduce him to them. As you gather them — the alluring and beautiful raven-haired girl, the energetic and fun-loving red head and the sporty, but smart dirty blonde-haired girl—to introduce them to each other, you become confuse, he's _gone_. You walked dejectedly throughout the entire night, throwing the plastic devil horns you once wore onto the floor. All hope is lost and you feel that there's no point of this party anymore.

Then suddenly, someone screamed in your right ear. You're now wide awake and alerted and you look behind to see who was the one screaming and then your blood _froze_. On the middle of the dance floor, you saw him—with_ her_. You don't understand why is she with him? Just last week, when you brought his name up, you saw her crinkle her perfect ski-slope nose in disgust, she lectured you by saying there are other guys who are much 'better looking' and she goes on and on about how uncool he is. But, she then noticed your defeated expression and then gave you a smile. She even gave you a hearty thumbs up to go talk to him and for him and now she's—oh my god, no—she's _hugging_ him in the middle of the dance floor. And that's the last straw for you, you stormed out of the dance and swirled around to see if your other best friends are coming with you. One of them is playing with her hair, the other looking at the ground, and the last one is fascinated by her necklace. They know how upset you are, but they don't follow you out, for them listening to her is their priority, as _usual_.

A few days later, the two are going out—a few months later he's dumped. He isn't the same Cameron Fisher you briefly knew. Why you ask she dumped him? Well, she moved onto another guy, but, she wouldn't say who.

Now when you think about it, once again, why are you even friends with this girl? She's manipulative, conniving, secretive, controlling and tricky. She makes you feel small, and she's got you wrapped around her little pinky. Yet on some days, she can be the most friendly, sweet and caring girl in the world. You sigh, you probably won't understand and _never_ will.

Though, one thing you can state boldly and understand clearly is that people in Westchester either _loved_ or _hated_ Claire Stacey Lyons.

And on fateful night, one emotion trumped the other one and _changed_ you and your best friends' lives _forever._

**[…]**

Massie Block was in awe, when she stepped foot into one of her best friends, Kristen Gregory, new house. She swirled her head around, Kristen's house was big, much larger than her old one. Of course, that was a silly statement, since Kristen used to live in a small apartment. Now that her father, Ted Gregory, was able to find his way back to the top of art dealing, the Gregory's were finally living in style, and it showed, from the floor decoration, to the selected furniture, and not to mention the heated and plush carpet. Her new house was the perfect place for their usual and weekly Friday sleepovers.

"Heeey," Alicia Rivera came from right behind, she flounced her way in, each step she took, looked like a new dance move she had learned from her dance class, the Body Alive Dance Studio. She too, looked impressed by the Gregory's new residence. Alicia fanned her cheeks with her hands, "Claire was right, Kris's new place is perfect for the sleepover."

Massie smiled, twirling her purple-coloured hair streak with her finger, "Yup," She looked around the room, not knowing where to place her duffel bag. If it were Kristen's old house—well, more like, apartment—she would have known where to place her stuff and settled down on the old ratty Ikea couch, Kristen used to have, by now. Now, glancing around the enormous house, everything seemed so foreign and confusing. They would just have to wait for Kristen's cue.

"I wonder what we'll be doing tonight," Alicia babbled excitedly, she was bouncing up and down. Alicia gripped the handle of her choice of a sleepover bag, a large leather hobo bag, "But whatever we'll be doing, it will probably fun and special, like Claire said."

Tonight was _special_. It was the last Friday night of the girls being in eighth grade. Next week, they would all be leaving their middle school, Octavian County Day and would be entering high school at Westchester Day High, a prestigious school, where the most gifted and talented students attended, as well, it was the high school where the majority of the guys from Briarwood (the brother school of OCD), would be going to.

"Hey girlies," Claire threw her arms around both Massie and Alicia after she scurried into Kristen's house from the front French doors. Her blonde hair was sported into a fancy ballerina bun, even though it didn't match the rugged and messy soccer jersey she was wearing. Claire was the only girl in their entire school and grade to make the Junior Varsity soccer team. This meant she played the sport with the high school girls who attended Westchester Day High.

Right at that moment, Kristen Gregory's head peeked out from the kitchen room and walked toward her friends. She gave them a warm, welcoming smile, but it faded once she spotted Claire's jersey. Her aqua eyes hardened and didn't leave sight of the shirt or at Claire. Kristen was still fuming over the fact that she didn't make the JV soccer team like Claire did, way back in the beginning of October in seventh grade. She still had to play on the regular middle school team; despite that the majority of the students in OCD, were in secret agreement that Kristen was the far _superior_ soccer player.

"So," She coughed, trying to start a conversation up, "Did I miss anything?"

Even with her happy tone of voice, Massie, Alicia and Claire could see through her façade. Kristen was downright pissed, and they knew it. If there was anything she hated, it was when anybody was better at her in anything. And it always seemed that Claire was _always_ better than her at everything.

Kristen motioned the other three girls to the massive living room. There, would be where the sleeping bags would take place. As they settled into their spots, a high pitched voice was heard, distracting them from conversing.

"I hope you guys didn't start without me!" The girls swivelled their heads to the door, there they saw their other best friend, Dylan Marvil, whose chunky arms and curled strands of red hair were flying everywhere. She slipped off her worn out runners, after closing and locking the door behind her. Her bucket bag was moving up and down, as the red head waved her chubby arms in fast motion. In the beginning of the seventh grade, Dylan began slowly to put on weight ever since her father ran away. Since then, Dylan's mother had been putting more pressure for her daughter to look perfect, to keep up a charade for the media. All the pressure that was put on her, made Dylan drive to food for comfort even more.

Claire snickered as the four of them watched Dylan struggling to pull her bag off her arm. The other three ignored the snickering, and welcomed their other best friend with force smiles. These days, Claire usually made snide comments and laughed at the other's misfortune. And when she did, the others would either pretend or ignore whatever she said.

With Dylan finally settling down and setting her sleeping bag. The girls took a peek at their circle, smiling widely at each other. It was more than two years when all five became best friends. If a stranger looked at them, they would have never guessed that the five of them were best friends. They were too different from each other, each of them coming from a different spectrum as individuals—what with, Massie being the artistic freak, and usually sat in the back of the classroom by herself, Alicia was the type who would blush when she was called on during class since she was very shy and had low confidence, except when it came to dancing, Dylan would be huddled with a group of prissy girls who were interested about celebrities lives than their own and they used Dylan for their valuable source, Kristen was the type who sat in the front with her hands raised for every question that was asked, due to her a-type personality and her need to be a perfectionist. And Claire, she was popular and well-known, she was the girl everyone wanted to be or be with— And now the five of them were best friends, in fact, they were _more_ than best friends, they were the _it girls_ of OCD. But it was their _differences_ that made them a unique group and it was a quality that made them _click_ with each other.

The five of them met each other when they were held after school in the middle of the year of sixth grade as they were sentenced in detention for different reasons, but none of them talked to each other during that time. Massie was sentenced to detention when she skipped her Geography class to go outside and sketch a new drawing of the view, Alicia received detention from her math teacher as she was late for class—her early dance practice ran over time, Kristen came due to her antics in her science class—she was wearing an oil bra that day, and it had exploded when it came too close to a Bunser burner and she threw it across the room, Dylan was in detention because she was putting pastels on her face to give her pale face a spice of colors and life since she was sick from the flu. And Claire, for some strange reason, _Miss Perfect Goodie Two Shoes_ (a nickname that was dubbed and given by other classmates, due to Claire's sweet nature) was in detention for the oddest reason; she was hiding from something or someone behind the drink vending machine.

At that time, none of them knew each other. The one thing Massie, Alicia, Kristen and Dylan did have in common was that the four, knew Claire. After all, she was Claire Lyons, the perfect, beautiful, clever and sweet girl that everyone knew about.

But the time they did really bonded and got to know each other as an entire group was when their parents' volunteered them—well, Kristen had volunteered herself, for more experience— to a clothing charity drive in January during Winter Break. How they got to know each other was when the charity organizer grouped them together to fold clothes and put them in a neat order. It was awkward at first, but slowly, they began to chat about little things, then later, they chatted about school, extracurricular activities, interests and boys.

Even before they introduced to their names to one another, the four of them were surprised that _the_ Claire Lyons actually_ knew_ their names. For them, it was surprisingly weird coming from her mouth when she mentioned their names as she talked to them one and one. So when she complimented Massie on her fashion style, discussed thoroughly about dancing with Alicia, cooed at Dylan's red curly hair and giggled at one of Kristen's soccer jokes, they couldn't help, but feel _special_.

After all, Claire Lyons had her own group of friends; it was so unlike her to come up and talk to other girls and well, be _friendly_.

In fact, it was Claire who knitted the group together, after the break was over, it was the day after the clothing charity drive, she talked to Massie during art class, watched Alicia perform a dance recital, played soccer with Kristen and gossiped with Dylan about the celebrities in English class, she decided that she liked the girls enough, and rounded them together at table number 18 in the cafeteria. From then on, they were _inseparable_.

"So, now that we're all here," Claire announced, she nodded at Dylan's presence, "I have major gossip."

"Really?" Alicia perked up, she was always interested in gossip, since it was the only drama she could live and thrive on. Because of her shy nature, her school life was pretty normal, even if she was friends with Claire. She clapped her hands together excitedly, "Who is it about? A guy?"

Claire shook her head, "Nope,"

"A girl?"

"Yup," Claire smirked at her, "It's something you that you specifically enjoy, Leesh."

Alicia mouth opened, she shrunk her perfect dance posture and turned beet red. "No, I wouldn't."

"Yes, you would." Claire tossed her hair back and smiled innocently. "I know you would _love_ it."

The other three casted glances at each other, not knowing what was going on between the two. Lately, Claire would mention something only someone else would understand since they would get upset, there would always be exchanges of confusion because no one would speak up and ask what was really going on.

Just like last week's sleepover, Claire had casually asked why Massie brought her black stuff pug everywhere they went.

"I don't know," Massie shrugged, "She's cute," She played with the ears of the pug.

Claire made a face, "Aren't you like too old to be playing with stuff your dad gives you?"

"Yeah," Dylan giggled into her clammy palms, "I stopped playing with the stuff animals my mom gave me ages ago."

Massie tugged on her high ponytail with frustration, and turned to Dylan, "Well, so what?" she snapped, "my dad gave it to me and I like it."

An awkward silence would fill the room after someone got upset. The only noise that was heard was the muffled giggles coming from Claire. And it was the same for this sleepover.

"Um," Kristen cleared her throat, breaking the silence, she gazed at Alicia who was still beet red, "What about the gossip?"

"Right," Claire flashed a smile, but then rolled her eyes dramatically, "You know that dweeby and dwanky loser, Layne Abeley?" —they all nodded their heads—"Well, she claims that there's a dead body behind Rycroft Street."

Kristen snorted, Massie fiddled with her hair and Alicia poked at the ground. Only Dylan seemed to be interested—ever since they became friends, Dylan wanted to prove to Claire how cool she could be, by hanging onto every word she said and listening to whatever she told her. Dylan dropped her chocolate Luna bar that she had stashed in her bag, she frowned, "Isn't that street right behind us?"

"Yeah,"

Dylan made a little noise and then gasped.

"Oh, please," Kristen said, giving a disbelief look towards Claire, "that 'gossip' is inaccurate. Even if there was a body, Layne would have reported by the police by now." She stared at Claire some more, "What's the matter? Are you making up gossip now?"

"It is true," Claire countered, she flipped her blonde hair that had fallen from her bun over her shoulders, "And Layne is stupid, she's a dork for life." She furrowed her eyebrows into a glare, "You're just jealous that I have a valuable source for gossip."

Kristen rolled her eyes, "Just because you labelled her a dork doesn't mean she's stupid, Claire." She folded her arms across her chest and shot back at Claire, "So then, who's your valuable source?"

"If I told you, it wouldn't be valuable, _Kuh-risten_."

The others made a face. Before, Claire would have told them anything, little things such as this, but now, she was so _secretive._ She would laugh at texts she got, she would send her own secretive texts to people, she would be on her phone whispering to the person on the other end and at times she would disappear without telling them. This was confusing and frustrating for them, since Claire had told them that they shouldn't keep any secrets from one another, she claimed that telling secrets would make their bonds stronger and guarantee them to be friends for life. Yet, Claire wouldn't spill anything about herself; she was always hiding something, something _big._

"Stop calling me that!" Kristen screeched, she let out a frustrated noise, "Can you not enunciate or something?"

"Guys! Chill out," Massie intervened; she frowned at the both of them. Although she was always viewed as the kooky, eccentric and freaky one in the group, ironically, Massie was the sanest from the five of them. Claire and Kristen always had these small spats every sleepover. Claire was the _alpha_ of the group, she told them what to do most of the time, but Kristen was the one who would always challenge her and fight back. "It's the last sleepover of being in the eighth grade, so let's just relax."

"Fine," Kristen muttered, Claire just sighed.

Alicia darted her eyes back and forth, between the two blondes, after they settled down. She locked eyes with Claire and mumbled softly, "I didn't _love_ that gossip."

"You didn't hear the entire thing—" Claire stopped herself midway, as she found herself in the middle of a stare down between Kristen and Massie. She folded her hands together, delicately, and gave a sweet smile, "Leesh, you would have loved it if I told you the entire thing."

The girls decided after that, to play games they enjoyed.

Time went by quickly as the girls played their favourite games, 'Given and Nawt Given', 'Truth or Dare', '20 questions' and watched video clips from YouTube. They stopped playing with the computer and decided to dance instead to radio music. In the middle of dancing, the doorbell rang.

Kristen quickly turned off the radio and shot a look to her friends. But, she shrugged and opened the door.

"Hey, Kris," Harris Fisher was leaning against the door frame, flashing his perfect white teeth at her, "I'm here to pick up Ali."

Harris Fisher was one of the Gregory's neighbours. He and his family lived right behind them in their mansion. Harris was a senior at Westchester Day High; he was also known to be the hottest guy in the school, with his signature tousled, messy black hair with a slightest tint of dark brown highlights and his sharp, piercing green eyes. He also had the body every girl fanaticised about and drooled over. Even though he was good-looking, he only had eyes, for Kristen's older cousin, Ali Gregory, which was odd, since she was a prude at times and a bitch, (according to Kristen), sure, Ali was pretty, but her personality stank.

"Oh," She started to play with the zipper of her Puma sweatshirt to act casual, "I'll go get her for you," Kristen smiled at him.

"Thanks," Harris messed up her hair and flashed her an adorable grin.

Kristen could feel herself blushing, "In the meantime why don't you come in?"

As Kristen dashed upstairs, Harris plopped himself on the Gregory's new leather couch and waved at the other girls. "Hey, are you girls having a fun sleepover?"

"Yeah," Claire was the first to answer; she tucked her loose strands of hair behind her ear, and gave him a toothy grin, "It started to be fun when you got here." Claire threw a seductive wink at him and licked her glossy lips.

Dylan and Alicia exchanged looks, Claire just openly flirted with Harris like it was nothing, even though Ali was steps away from them, their faces contorted into a mixture of surprise and shock—although, for Dylan, for a few seconds, her face flickered with an expression of jealousy and then, impressiveness—the only one who was oblivious to Claire's flirting was Massie, who, herself, visibly brightened when Harris showed up at the doorway.

"Hey, Harris," Massie replied, she gave him a shy smile, "is Cam coming over for a quick visit as well?" She quickly changed her expression of interest and dropped her eager tone of voice, when she remembered what Claire had told her about Cam after they broke up. Claire kept going on and on how Cam was a lousy kisser and how he was a loser for wearing the same leather jacket every single day, she clucked her tongue, "Um, not that I care."

"No," Harris raised his eyebrows at her, he glanced at Claire, who perched herself on the same sofa, while Massie was speaking, "It would have been too awkward."

"Right," Massie said, she bit on her lip and looked at Claire. It would have been awkward for the blonde for her ex to come over, even if she was the one who initiated the breakup.

"Harris?" A voice came from upstairs.

The girls and Harris turned their attention to the spiraled stairs.

Soon, Ali Gregory came rushing downstairs with Kristen by her side. Ali was wearing a cute white lace dress with a jean jacket on top; she grabbed his arm when she approached him, brushing Claire's cheeks in the process. "Come on, let's go, the concert will start soon."

Harris nodded his head and stood up. He waved his hand and threw his own wink at the girls, "Have a good time girls."

"Yeah, bye," Ali said dismissively. She tugged on his arms, pulling him away, until they were out the front door.

"Ugh," Kristen stuck her tongue out, as soon as the door slammed behind the couple, she flopped down on her sleeping bag, "I can't believe Harris has a thing for _her._"

Out of nowhere, Claire burst out laughing from the couch.

"What?" Kristen hissed. "What's so funny, all of the sudden?"

"_You_," Claire pointed at the blonde, she stood up walking towards the circle, until she was in front of Kristen. She stood above the blonde, hovering over her, "You're so obvious."

Kristen felt her face flushing, a patch of red started to show on her neck, but, she refused to look away from Claire, "What is so obvious?"

"Your little cute crush on Harris," Claire purred, mocking her in a sweet and childish tone of voice, she grinned triumphantly, "You have no chance whatsoever, why do you even bother?" Claire folded her hands across, continuing her teasing, "If you haven't notice, Harris, is interested in a _woman_, not a _little girl_."

"Oh?" Kristen scoffed, right back, "Well, maybe you shouldn't be talking," she gave a sweet smile and mimicked Claire's sweet and childish voice, "_Kuh-laire_. Since you're still the same immature little brat from back then,"

Claire's sapphire eyes darkened, her fists tightened into a ball, even when it was folded over, "Take that back,"

"No," Kristen stood up as well, putting her hands on her hips, "make me,"

The two girls faced each other, standing perfectly tall and straight. Their faces were only inches apart from each other. Their fighting was always perceived as small spats by their friends, but both blondes knew better; their fighting was always about something _more_, much _deeper_, than anticipated.

"Claire, Kris, stop it." Alicia finally interrupted, she looked like she was wincing from all the fighting, "let's just focus back on something else."

"Yeah, you guys," Dylan chimed in, she was looking very worried, "Drop it, now."

Massie bit on her tongue, she studied both blondes carefully, they weren't even listening to a word what Alicia and Dylan had said. So she decided that it was her turn to speak, "Come on, guys—"

"_You_ shouldn't even be speaking," Claire spun her head around, interrupting Massie and ignoring Kristen, "Why are you still hung over Cam Fisher?"

"I—"

"_Puh-lease_," Claire turned her all attention towards the brunette, "You were so pumped up if he was coming over. I already told you, he's a loser, a dork." She then leaned down towards Massie, for her to hear only, "And I told you, he's _OL_."

A lump rose in Massie's throat, she suddenly remembered the OL rule Claire told her. OL meant 'off-limits', according to Claire, Cam was still and officially off-limits from any girl. This meant, even though they were broken up, Claire still had the privilege getting Cam, if she wasn't interested in any other guys, which Massie doubted. Claire just wanted a backup guy for an emergency.

The more she thought about it, Massie thought the whole rule was stupid and fixed. She couldn't help who she liked, and it just happened to be Cam. But when she discussed about the rule with Claire, the pale-blonde shot her a sugary smile and said, "I know how much you liked being alone, would you like to experience that again?"

_No way._

No way did she want to be alone again. And that time, Claire threatened her if she went for Cam, she guaranteed that Massie would be friendless for the rest of her life. That was something Massie didn't want, and besides, Claire dangled another threat, if Massie ever tried to persuade Cam, Claire warned something bad would happen to the both of them. It was such a stupid threat, but these days, everything associated with Claire seemed _ominous_, and came true.

"Okay, _enough_," Alicia barked, she couldn't stand all the fighting, and the tension in the room. Once, Claire had turned away from Massie and went back to facing Kristen, Alicia grabbed the opportunity to speak out loud, "This is supposed to be a special day, so you guys, _stop_ fighting."

Kristen looked stunned, as did Claire. Alicia hardly raised her voice; she was such a quiet person.

"_Fine_," Claire said, she gazed at Kristen, and stole a quick peek at Massie, "I'll drop it," she murmured.

Kristen and Massie nodded in silence with agreement, after watching Claire reclaim her spot; there was a collective sigh and feeling amongst them.

"So," Dylan broke off a piece of her chocolate bar, examining each of her best friends' face, "anybody got an idea on what to do?"

"No," Kristen shook her head; she sat back down on her sleeping bag, "Not a clue."

Massie shook her head as well and Alicia shrugged, while digging through her purse.

"I got an idea,"

They all turned to Claire, she flashed a confident smile and sat up straight.

"What is it?" Dylan asked with interest.

"_Voodoo dolls_," Claire snickered, "I bought a whole bunch of these dolls from my brother's friend's sister." She pulled the dolls out of her bag and waved them, "We can use them to hurt people we don't like."

Alicia frowned, "I don't know," She seemed hesitant, she didn't like the fact that the doll were used to harm people, even if they were given to harm someone she didn't like, "that sounds kind of mean, Claire."

She ignored Alicia, "Well?" Claire blinked at the others, "Are you guys in?"

Kristen started to play with her zipper again, Massie flicked the charms on her charm bracelet, Alicia began to braid her hair and Dylan broke her chocolate bar into smaller pieces.

"Aw, come on. Don't be such _babies_."

Claire always tried to force the girls to do things they didn't want to do. On one sleepover, Claire convinced them to swim in a lake that was contaminated with oil, another one was when she tried to hypnotize each of them and one time she dared the girls to take photos of the guys in the locker room, with their clothes _off_. As much as they enjoyed her company, Massie, Alicia, Kristen and Dylan sometimes _hated_ Claire for controlling them on what they could do and what they couldn't. They seemed so powerless when it came to challenging her authority.

"I'm in," Dylan quickly replied. "It sounds cool."

"I-I guess I'm in too," Alicia nodded meekly.

Both Kristen and Massie gave in, nodding in agreement, but, with some reluctance.

"Great," Claire looked pleased. She handed one doll to each girl. "Now," She explained, "You have to pin something personal that is owned by the person you hate," Claire pulled out a single strand of dark brown hair from a plastic baggy, "Here, like this." She placed the hair on the voodoo, pinning it with a pin. "All you do now, is anything." Claire raised a finger, "For example like this," The girls watched her attentively, as the blonde stabbed the doll, forcefully with another pin.

Dylan gulped, "Who did you just, um, stabbed?"

"A person I hate," Claire sighed, "Layne Abeley. She is so _ah-nnoying_, I just wish she'd _die_ already,"

There was casts of worried glances around the circle, no one said a word, until Claire cleared her throat.

"Let's say, I don't feel like harming anyone," Dylan said, breaking the tension, she was looking at the ground for seconds, "Can I use the doll to make someone fall in love with me?"

Claire groaned, "You can, but don't tell me you're trying to go for Dempsey Solomon, still."

Dempsey Solomon was a boy that Dylan had a huge crush on ever since he lost his baby weight back when he was in Africa. When the boy arrived back at Westchester, the girls gaped at him; he became better looking and athletic. No more was he the chubby gamer kid he once was.

A few minutes passed by, and now each girl had a personal attachment on her doll. They got the personal items from Claire, who (_go figure_) had the items collected in a plastic baggy.

When it came to stabbing, shaking or throwing the doll, Claire monitored each girl. She nodded in approvement as she watched Alicia shake her doll that contained a strand of hair from Skye Hamilton—she was a dancer who beat Alicia from getting the part of the black swan—, advised Dylan when the red head was shaking the doll that contained a piece of Dempsey's safari shirt and giggled at Massie, when she watched the brunette throw her doll up and down, that had a personal item from Kori Gledman—one of Layne's dorky friends, who one time ruined Massie's sketching when she spilled water over it.

Claire now hovered over Kristen again, she arched her eyebrows at the challenging girl, "Well, Kris? I'm waiting,"

Kristen bit down on her lower lip, not wanting to give in. She didn't want to look stupid as her friends who were doing stuff with a hand-knitted doll. Besides, she was tired of listening to Claire; sometimes Kristen wished Claire would disappear, _forever._

Anyways, if the voodoo dolls did actually work, she had so many options to choose, from Harris to her nasty and mean science teacher and to Ali, to put on the doll, but she didn't choose any one of them. What the pale-blonde haired girl didn't notice was that Kristen had taken a hair from Claire and secretly put it on her voodoo.

As much as Kristen wanted to secretly hit the doll, she wasn't going to. If she did, she would just be giving into Claire, once again.

"I'm not going to do it,"

"Huh?" Claire squinted, unsure of what she heard from Kristen's mouth, "What did you say?"

"I said I'm not going to do anything with this doll," Kristen replied calmly, "This is a waste of time."

"Kris," Claire said through her clenched teeth, "You have to do it. Everyone else did, even me."

Kristen was on her legs, standing up. "No, I won't," She threw her hair back coolly, "I'm not going to do something, just because you told me to," She locked eyes with Claire, placing one hand on her hip, "You can't always have your way, Claire."

"Yes I can," Claire simpered, "But so what? Best friends do everything with each other,"

"Really?" Kristen retorted, "Well, I don't think a best friend would control every single move their best friends make."

"Is that what you really think?"

"Yeah, you know it's true." Kristen fumed, "Everything always has to be _your_ way, but not anymore, because I'm _done_ listening to you,"

Claire stared at Kristen for a long time, and then something snapped inside of her, "You _bitch_," She snarled.

Kristen gaped at her, but then finally pointed at the back door of her house, "Get out,"

The pale-blonde stood motionless, refusing to budge.

"I said, _get out_ of my house!" Kristen shrieked, glaring at Claire.

"Fine," She simply said, she grabbed her purse and threw it over her shoulder. Claire then craned her neck towards Alicia, "Oh yeah, I meant to tell you Leesh, people saw Meena and Heather making out," Claire watched the Latina drop her doll and gasp aloud, "I told you, you would love it."

The pale-blonde started cackling like a witch as she headed for the back door, but before she could, she dodged whatever Kristen had threw at towards her.

"What the hell?" Claire snapped while she cowered.

"I'm wrong, this is actually the_ last_ time I'll ever _listen _to you," Kristen scorned, "You know my voodoo? It has your hair on it,"

Claire gritted her teeth hard, "You _really_ are a _bitch_," She stormed out of the house, making loud stomping noises.

By this time, Massie and Dylan stopped paying attention to their dolls and stared at the back door, where they watched Kristen follow Claire shortly. Alicia was biting on her thumb, looking scared.

Maybe someone should have said something from the start, the signs where all there. The fighting, the secrecy, and not to mention the voodoo dolls, because before they knew it, this was the last time the girls would ever see Claire alive.

She would be dead, buried with their memories, but also with their darkest secrets.

Or so they thought, because the four of them spoke too soon, since the next two years would prove them wrong.

**[…]**

You blink and blink and blink, until you start to blink rapidly. No matter how much blinking you do, you will never forget that night, that night will always be a part of you and your friends' lives. You will always remember that night clearly, as if it were yesterday. You remembered how it was on a Friday, and that the hours into that day was all fun and games, then the mood changed. Out of nowhere, you witnessed a verbal disagreement between two of your best friends— both of them blondes. You watched them argue back and forth, like howling wolves. When it's over, you recalled the pale blonde-haired storming out the house, through the back door, with the other blonde following shortly. Only a few minutes past, but to you and your other best friends it felt like an eternity. Soon you heard the back door click; you only see one, the sporty blonde huffing and out of breath. She's pale as a ghost and her hair is standing, an image you will never quite forget. Her whole body is quavering and her mouth formed into an 'o' shape, she spoke in a shaky voice.

"I can't find Claire,"

The four words you heard on that night _changed_ your life _forever._

You and your friends informed her parents. Her parents immediately phoned the police before rushing to the house.

As her parents arrived, and soon following them the police, time was ticking. The police search began, and soon, minutes pass, then the hours, then days, then months and then years.

She's still missing.

On one night, the police gather you and your friends together.

"As of today, the search for Claire Stacey Lyons is over, and we officially declare her dead."

Dead?

No, that can't be.

You shake your head frantically, denying this news. Out of the corner of your eyes, you see the raven-haired girl bursting into tears, the red head is holding back, but making loud sniffling noises and the sporty blonde is biting her lip, looking down at the ground, guilt is in her aqua eyes.

The word echoes in your head.

_Dead. _

Cold and dead.

Claire Stacey Lyons, one of your best friends, was _dead._

Never again would you be able to hang out with her. Never again would you laugh with her over some stupid joke or story. Never again would you see her smile light up as she saw you guys. Never again would you be able to tell her a juicy secret. _Never again_.

The news travels fast around the city and when you try to continue your daily life, after adjusting and swallowing the news, you somehow start to feel your being shun by people and the residents.

With days passing, the best friends you used to hang with are no more than acquaintances. You drift apart from them as they do to you and to each other, all following the same route, no longer speaking to one another.

You can't help but feel like your back in elementary school. No one talks to you, you're alone like before.

Eyes follow wherever you go, wherever you move and whatever you do. The people don't say anything, but you don't need to hear them speak. Their facial expressions say it all.

You _hurt_ her. You _killed_ her. You _murdered_ her.

You shut your eyes tightly, not wanting to see any more of these people. Maybe you were always meant to be alone and shun by others.

You start to squeeze your amber eyes even tighter, trying and forcing to make everything go away. It won't happen, and you _know_ it.

After some time, you come to a startling realization, your eyes pop open wide. You remember, no matter what, you're _not_ alone, like the years before, because you have three other people going through the same thing you're going through.

Your _old_ best friends— the raven-haired girl, the red head and the dirty blonde-haired girl—suddenly, an uneasiness sweeps through you when you think about them, even if they are in the same shoes as you are.

Because who knows?

Her _killer_ could be right in _front_ of _you_.

* * *

**Disclaimer: Lisi Harrison owns the Clique.**

I always, _always_ wanted to write a story about the original PC members as the core/main characters, so this story was in my head for the longest time.

You don't need to read or watch the Pretty Little Liars series to read/understand this story, the concept will be sort of the same, but it's pretty easy to follow.

But if you do, then you can look out for hints/clues/references from the story. And if you want, you can guess which character is after who.

This chapter was focused on Massie, because I wanted to give an insight for each character. So, the next time it would probably Alicia, _probably_.

On a side note, I hope the switching of the tenses and flashbacks weren't too confusing, if they were please tell me and I will fix the problem!

Plus, Kristen actually does have an older cousin named Ali. I think she was introduced in the prequel of the series.

Read and review, please? :D


	3. New Day, New Year, Old Secrets

**_"You can leave Rosewood, but Rosewood will never leave you."_**

-Jason DiLaurentis, in 'Birds of a Feather'

* * *

The clear blue sky, overtook the gloomy rainy weather, the city of Westchester had yesterday, the entire Saturday. The weather was nice; it was the type of weather that allowed people to gather outside with friends or family or to take a nice long walk alone, something that a certain raven-haired girl used to like doing. Nowadays, she was doing neither, and always chose to stay and cope at home

Alicia Rivera sat down on the Ikea stool that was bought for the Rivera's massive kitchen, stirring her breakfast, a bowl of _Lucky Charms_, around in circles with her silver spoon. She was unable to focus as she was too distracted by the overwhelming aroma of her mother's cooking.

"Alicia," Nadia Rivera glanced at her daughter from the corner of her beautiful hazel -coloured eyes, she was holding a pair of tongs, flipping a rack of lamb that would be used and eaten later on for dinner. "You haven't even touched your cereal for a while." She set aside the frying pan and tongs, and reached for the stove dial to turn it off. "What's on your mind?"

"Huh?" Alicia felt herself blushing; she sat up straight and immediately stopped stirring. She glanced down, her cereal was in a soggy, colourful mess, all the marshmallows she hand-picked were melted. Alicia looked up to see her mother still staring at her. She knew her mother wouldn't budge (Nadia was too stubborn), until she explained something, but she didn't really feel like talking.

Two days ago, was the two-year anniversary of the disappearance of Claire Lyons, who was one of Alicia's old best friends. Claire had disappeared during the last sleepover of the eighth grade after her and Kristen gotten into some sort of argument or disagreement, although, Alicia was still unsure till this day since she really wasn't paying attention to the two. Part of her felt guilty, for not interfering between Claire and Kristen, maybe she could have done something instead of focusing on the voodoo doll Claire had given her.

The disappearance of Claire sparked a frenzy over the media. Every day, reporters from different news channels would be right at her and the others' door, questioning them about Claire. They would even sneak through Kristen's backyard to catch and record the last place where Claire was seen alive. All the attention that was brought towards them, made Alicia feel sad and desperate. What made it sad was that the reporters would have dug up old information about Claire, and then asking Alicia about it. It made her crave for Claire's existence even more, but there was no way she would come back. And the news made Alicia desperate, desperate for an escape, somewhere, and anywhere, besides Westchester. There was hardly any room to breathe, with all the microphones, cameras and tape recorders thrust into her face.

Alicia bit down on her lip, trying not to tremble, but all the reminiscing of Claire, was difficult, she would always be part of Alicia's life, and in some ways, even if she was dead, Claire would always be a part of Alicia's life too. Claire still made an impact on Alicia, wherever she went out for a walk, or to the mall, Alicia knew people were staring at her and whispering about her. The people in this town, labelled her as the 'girl who was best friends with Claire Lyons' and 'the girl who knew Claire Lyons', it was as though Alicia didn't have her own identity, and when she did, it was only when it was associated with Claire.

Well, that wasn't entirely true.

There was one other label about her that only she and Claire knew.

Alicia lowered her pretty dark chocolate-coloured brown eyes, in embarrassment, Claire was her best friend, she trusted her with all her heart and to the extent, and she even told secrets about herself to Claire only, not the others. Now, looking back, she wondered if it was a mistake telling Claire her secrets. On some days, Claire would drop hints about her secrets aloud for the others to hear. Even if they were best friends, Alicia hated the way pale blonde haired girl could dangle secrets about her when she got the chance.

The incident happened earlier, it was months before the final sleepover and Claire had called her over to her house, the blonde sounded so excited over something over the phone. So, eagerly, Alicia walked as fast as she could to meet her best friend.

"Hey," Claire smiled at Alicia, she watched the Latina plopped down beside her on the grass of her lawn. "I'm glad you came, I just had to tell someone."

Alicia smiled right back at Claire; she adjusted her body, until she found a comfortable spot on the grass. "Well, that's good." She looked around, to the sky, Claire's house, the grass and then finally back to Claire. "Um…so what time will the others be here?"

The blonde shook her head, her hair flipping everywhere, "No one else is coming. I only invited you over."

"What?" Alicia squeaked, her eyes bulging.

"Yeah," Claire flicked of the grass that was clinging to her lacy white sundress; she licked her lips as her gaze went back to Alicia from her sundress. "I feel that we have the closest bond." Claire peeked around to be mysterious; she leaned close to Alicia, "Just don't tell the others, okay?"

"Deal," Alicia giggled. She felt a sudden rush of warmth taking over her body. She was glad that Claire said that the two of them from their entire group had the closest bond, Alicia always felt that way and it made her happy. Actually, when Alicia thought about it, anything that had to do with Claire always made Alicia happy and in a brighter mood and she knew why.

"So?" Alicia widened her dark brown eyes with interest; she started to fold her hands over, which usually indicated that she was excited. "What did you want to tell me?"

"Right," Claire started to giggle into her palms, she threw her hair back and then lay down on the patch of grass. She let out a relaxed sigh and then smiled at the blue, blue sky. Claire's mouth formed into a soft 'o' shape as she turned to see Alicia lying down on the grass as well. With the raven-haired girl finally settling down on the grass, Claire opened her dainty mouth to speak, "I think I'm in _love._"

"R-really?" Alicia stuttered. She cleared her throat to hide her nerves, "Do I know this person?"

"Well, _yeah_," Claire said with an emphasis of 'duh' in her voice, she began to stretch her long, pale arms towards the pretty sky, "It wouldn't make sense to be in love with someone I wouldn't know," She paused for a bit, "Or else, my _beautiful_ best friend wouldn't know." Claire shot Alicia an extra sweet, sugary smile.

Alicia turned her head slightly; she felt an upcoming blush and didn't want to show the blonde. With the heat from her face, finally flushing away, she turned back to face Claire, "So, what is this person like?"

"This person…..is probably the sweetest, caring and generous person I know." Claire brought her arms back down and folded over her stomach, "and the person just gets me, you know? It's like I can be the real me around them, and they can be themselves."

"_Yeah?_" Alicia started to have butterflies in her stomach. She fluttered her luscious, long eyelashes, she smiled with glee. There was no doubt in her mind, Claire was talking about _her_. Alicia was always her true self with Claire, she was real with her, besides, Alicia _got_ Claire. She knew who the real Claire was. Despite being mean at times, Claire was really a sweet and kind person. And hearing Claire say all of this, made her conclude that Claire was giving a subtle confession.

She watched and listened how Claire went one and on about the person she was in love with, the blonde described how the person was beautiful both inside and out and how they never had anything mysterious about them. Alicia loved listening to Claire, just hearing her buttery, smooth and soothing voice made her at ease. It was also the perfect time, just to watch Claire, who was very pretty. Everyone around them kept going on and saying how she was the 'pretty one', but Alicia disagreed. In her eyes, Claire was the pretty and beautiful one, with her cute perfect ski-slope nose, her shiny pale-blonde and willowy hair, her heart-shape face and sweet, dainty, ruby red mouth, she was and would be the pretty one for Alicia, _always._

"What are you staring at?" Claire asked, she giggled in amusement as she witnessed Alicia's eyes grow big and her face turning a tint of red. "I was done talking a long time ago."

"Oh, I-I, um…." Alicia felt her pores opening in an instant; she bit her tongue to stop herself from going, preventing herself to not look stupid in front of Claire.

"It's okay," Claire forgave, she reached for Alicia's arms, grabbing it and then…._ holding_ it.

Alicia's heart literally skipped a beat. Her pulse became uncontrollable, being with Claire made her feel nervous. She had been feeling this way around Claire, lately. While they were best friends, Alicia knew that she wanted to be _more_ than best friends with Claire, a long time ago. She _loved_ Claire, and hearing her rave about this particular person, was a perfect opportunity to finally tell the pale-blonde haired girl how she _really_ felt.

She sat up straight, dusting any dirt or grass that was on raven hair or on her Ralph Lauren blazer and beige Capri. Alicia could feel Claire's sapphire eyes following her. She turned to her, "Who is the person you're in love with?"

Claire chuckled, then sing-songed, "someone's _nosy_." She too, sat up straight. She combed through her hair with her fingers, until she was satisfied on how it felt and looked. Claire locked eyes with Alicia, she wiggled her pinky under the Latina's nose, "I'll tell you, but you have to tell me something about yourself, too." Claire grinned with satisfaction when Alicia locked pinkies with hers, "a secret for a secret." She held her pinky around Alicia's some more, "You go first, okay?"

Alicia pursed her lips. She pushed a strand of her faintly curled hair behind her ear, glancing at Claire straight in her gleaming sapphire-coloured eyes. "I just can't say it; I have to express it on my own."

"Well, then," Claire shrugged; she sounded a bit bored already. "Express it."

"I—"

"Come on," Claire sighed, interrupting her rudely, "I don't have all day, Alici—"

Before Claire could finish her sentence, Alicia leaned forward, pressing her glossy lips against Claire's. She made her move before thinking about and over it thoroughly, but she didn't care. All that matter was that she finally told Claire the truth and was expressing it the correct way. As their lips were still in contact, Alicia knew she was very close to Claire as she could smell her signature vanilla scented perfume and tasted her delicious strawberry lip gloss. Her heart almost leaped out of her chest as she felt Claire kissing her back.

All of the sudden, Claire pulled back. Her sweet face expressed a mixture of shock and surprise, then for a quick second, a _very_ quick second—her face displayed_disgust_—Alicia felt her heart crumple when she saw the disgusted look upon Claire's face, but what made her feel even worse was when Claire started to wipe her mouth with her arms, it was if she was like a four year old who just ate an entire batch of mud pie.

An eerie silence fell. The only sounds that could be heard between them were the chirping of birds and Claire's mother—Judi Lyons— hammering the raw chicken breast on the kitchen counter that would be cooked for dinner.

"Whoa," Claire finally managed, her eyes were widening each second that was passing, her hands were in front of her mouth, representing some sort of shield just in case she thought Alicia would barricade her with another kiss, "I don't…swing that way. I'm not into girls."

Alicia's mouth felt dry, her eyes started to brim with tears; she could feel her face turning redder as she sat there. "T-that was a mistake, Claire. I thought when you were talking about me, when you said you were in love."

Claire made an unreadable face, "I don't think so," She sounded grossed out, "I mean, I kind of had a feeling you weren't into guys, but I thought you were just shy around them." She clenched her teeth, "I think it's pretty obvious I was talking about a guy, Leesh." She pushed herself up from the ground and swivelled around, her back facing Alicia's defeated face.

"Claire!" Alicia shrieked. She lowered her voice, not wanting to draw any more attention towards herself; she bent her head down in shame and embarrassment, "_please._ Please _don't_ tell _anyone_ about this."

The blonde stood up and started to walk towards her house ignoring her friend for a moment, Claire then twirled around before leaving Alicia completely alone, "Don't worry your secret is safe with me." She mustered a huge fake smile, "So you're the type of girl who likes other girls," Claire held a gaze on her, "I'll see you at school tomorrow," She clamped her mouth shut, then suddenly, a wicked smile and expression lit up on her face, "_lesbian_."

Alicia's mouth hanged open. It was getting harder to see Claire as the hot tears were blurring her vision in seconds. The more they came out, the farther Claire was from her. She was too distracted and broken-hearted over how Claire reacted from her kiss. In one moment, she was kissing back, then she looked disgusted and then, finally, _taunting _her.

She pushed her hands up to her face, covering it. Alicia rubbed her tears away, Claire was long gone. She broke into more quiet sobs, she told the truth, and look where it got her? _Nowhere_. She revealed her darkest secret and professed her love at the same time, to Claire.

Alicia wondered how this would affect her life and relationship with her friends, but more importantly Claire. She thought about long and hard, forgetting the fact that Claire had left without telling _who_ the _guy_ was.

"Alicia?" Someone coughed loudly near her ear, "Alicia? Sweetie?"

Her head shot up, Alicia looked around her surroundings, she was still back in her kitchen, with her mother, with her soggy, colourful cereal at her kitchen. She snapped back to reality, when she heard her mother's voice. "Yeah, ma?"

"While you were spacing out, I was just saying that someone bought the Lyon's old house." Nadia placed her hands on her daughter's shoulder for comfort and reassurance as she watched Alicia's face drop. "I know this is hard for you, Alicia. But, maybe you can talk this through with your old friends."

"What _friends_?" Alicia grumbled. She picked up the silver spoon that was leaning against her ceramic cereal bowl, stirring her cereal into a bigger mess. She thought of Massie, Kristen and Dylan, as she continued to stir. The four of them haven't carried one entire conversation among them in years; they all drifted apart almost immediately when Claire disappeared. Two months after the final sleepover, the Blocks packed up their things and left town, moving straight to England. Kristen stayed in town, but she became more uptight than before, she wasn't really seen in the social scene as the blonde would stay home to study. And Dylan, thinking about the present Dylan made Alicia shudder, the red head was like a second forthcoming of Claire. She was no longer the lovable, energetic, yet dorky girl she once was. Dylan now ruled the high school with her own group of friends, she was now BFF with Layne Abeley—the former dork—and the two of them were total _bitches_. With nobody to hang out with, this left Alicia leaving to hang out with the students in her dance class and sometimes people who were on the swim team.

She let an exasperated noise, leaning her palms against her cheeks. Alicia listened as her mother was still going on.

"I heard that the family who bought the Lyon's residence has a teenage daughter and son around your age, honey." Nadia was now standing over the counters; she was wrapping something with Saran wrap. "Maybe you can show them around the neighbourhood and become friends with them."

"Do I have to?" Alicia whined.

Nadia swirled her head towards her pouting daughter, her eyebrows rose, "Weren't you just saying something about not having many friends?"

Alicia bit down on her lip, "I was referring to my old friends, not my current ones." She met with her mother's eyes, "It's the last day before school, can't I do something I want to do?"

"Alicia _Louise_ Rivera," Nadia said sharply, she grabbed the item she had wrapped with Saran wrap— a plate of chocolate chip cookies—shoving it into her daughter's hands. "You are going to greet these people with warmth, welcoming them to our neighbourhood, because I told you, too, _understand_?"

She thought about protesting and even arguing back, but all Alicia did was bite the insides of her cheeks. There were times that she wanted to fight back, not doing the things her mother or father told her to do, but it was just easier to listen and be the obedient and perfect daughter they wanted her to be. "I understand."

"Good," Nadia replied, she went back focusing on the rack of lamb she left out, "Maybe going back to Claire's old house will give you closure."

"Maybe," Alicia said, hopefully. She pushed her stool out and grabbed the car keys that were laying on the end table in the kitchen, while holding the plate of cookies; she raced to the front door before her mother had finished talking.

Alicia pulled her leather boots on, hoping that seeing Claire's house would give her some much needed closure.

It would probably.

But when she thought about it, thought about Claire, thought about the memories, Alicia pouted.

She needed closure, yet, seeing Claire's house again, would she really get it?

Even with the question roaming in her mind, she already knew the answer.

Probably _not._

**[...]**

Dylan Marvil smirked as she sat at a rounded table, that also happened to be the in the center of the Starbucks of Westchester Grand Mall, with her BFFF (that's right, Best Friend Forever _Forever_), Layne Abeley. The two of them were sipping on their cappuccinos, while pointing out what strangers and customers had plastic surgery, a favourite game of theirs.

"She totally had a boob job," Layne sneered, she was referring to a busty blonde who was sitting at the back of the cafe, "without those, I bet she wouldn't even be married," both of them had spotted the sparkly wedding ring that was entwined on the blonde's ring finger, "I mean, did you see her face?"

"I know," Dylan giggled deviously in agreement. She smiled as Layne was still spotting and pointing out people who had work done. About two years ago, Dylan would have never imagined that out of all people, she and Layne Abeley would become best friends. The two got to know each other shortly after Claire's disappearance, and when Dylan's old best friends drifted apart from one another.

It was when Dylan had tried out for the cheerleading squad, something she wanted to do for the longest time, but couldn't since Claire deemed cheerleading to be 'stupid', 'superficial', 'annoying' and 'pointless.'

"Honestly Dylan," Claire said to her one day in the seventh grade, she eyed the red head up and down, "Cheerleading is stupid."

"How?" Dylan's forehead started to show lines, she smoothed out the Alice+Olivia floral print dress she raided from her mother's closet; the dress was too tight on her. The girls usually raided Merri-Lee Marvil's closet for fun, whenever they got permission from the famous talk show host. Dylan twirled around as she glanced at her reflection from the wide wall mirror, and then stopped, when she faced Claire. "How is cheerleading _stupid_?"

"Because," Claire paused, "All you do is shake your pom poms around and yell out lame chants for sport teams."

Dylan frowned, "It's not just shaking poms poms, Claire." She wiggled her way out of the dress and threw it on the floor. Was it her imagination or what? It seemed that her mother's dress stretched into three more sizes, when examining it as it lay on the floor, "It's a sport where you can show your creativity and artistic knowledge and skills." She grabbed the leather mini skirt she was dying to try ever since her mother had bought it, "Besides, it can improve flexibility, maybe something that Dempsey likes," Dylan added, while laughing childishly.

"Whatever," Claire rolled her sapphire eyes emphatically, she reached for the three inch black stilettos from the walk-in closet, as she squeezed them on, Claire smiled sweetly at her, "How can you be so sure that Dempsey would like flexibility?"

"I don't know," Dylan shrugged her shoulders, she started to jump up and down to get the skirt pass her knees, "He's a guy, guy's love flexibility."

"Right," Claire replied back coolly, she teetered over to the mirror, glancing at her reflection, liking what she saw. The blonde swivelled around and grinned, "Yeah, but one type of girls guys don't like are _overweight _girls." She stared at Dylan's flabby arms and legs, Claire crinkled her nose as she noticed the oozing fat rolls coming from the red head's legs, "I mean think about it Dyl, do you even think you'll look good in the uniforms?"

Dylan froze. Her face was turning the same shade as her hair, "What's that suppose to mean?"

Claire smirked, "Do you really want me to answer?"

The red head bit her lip; of course she knew the answer already. Dylan was..._fat._ And she knew it, she couldn't deny it, the mini skirt, right in front of their eyes was enough of a proof, it was stuck right below her knees, she couldn't pull the damn thing up one more millimeter, with all her might.

"Anyways," Claire said, keeping them back on track, "Cheerleading is not for you. You have to be cute, preppy, cheery, but most of all _slim_." She giggled and reached for her purse, "Face it Dylan, the time you ever become one will be in _years_."

Dylan opened her mouth, "But—"

"Save it for later," Claire waved her off; she smoothed her hair out, fixing it, with the help of the mirror, "I have to go somewhere important,"

"I thought you were staying for dinner,"

"Nope, I got to watch my weight," Claire said, rubbing her stomach, she gave a smug look towards Dylan, "You _should _too, Dyl. I suggest you _skip _dinner tonight, unless you want to become _obese_ sooner than I thought."

The giggling girl clomped her way out of Merri-Lee's walk-in closet and left, stepping over the mountainous clothing piles, but most of all, stepping on and all over Dylan's _self-esteem_.

Dylan shook her head, her fiery mane shaking everywhere, she hated remembering that. It was like Claire took a part of her, and she could never get it back, since, well, the girl was _dead_.

She pinched herself, to focus on the present. Dylan noticed that Layne was still murmuring about the customers in the packed Starbucks; at least she thought to herself, she had _Layne_, her true and real best friend, not like her old ones. Dylan didn't even know what the hell happened to Massie, other than her family moved somewhere, but where? And Kristen became more anal than before, she just studied and studied. Alicia was hardly seen; Dylan assumed the girl took up more dance classes.

So she concluded, it had to be _fate _that she and Layne bumped into each other during the tryouts, while they were both rejected, it only motivated them more to work harder. After becoming official friends in ninth grade, the two of them made a pact, to make their selves over during the winter break to get in the squad. And when January came, once they stepped foot into Westchester Day High, they became _the_ girls of the school. Every guy stared, gaped and watched their every move, the two of them would be asked out for numerous dates, but each time Dylan and Layne rejected the guys as they would stick to their motto, _'chicks before dicks.'_They only accepted dates when it came to their own dream guys. For Dylan, it was Dempsey Solomon of course, and for Layne it was Eli Harding, an eyeliner-wearing, but surprisingly, cute Goth.

The two of them were hot and slim. They were even dubbed as 'the twenties' by the guys in the school—each of them were perfect 'tens'—for different reasons. Dylan's red tight curls, her emerald cat eyes and her now, slim and toned body, she was viewed as spicy, saucy and hot. While Layne had her imperfections, her deep brown crimped hair, teal-coloured bug eyes, small crooked nose and her muscular body, she was still seen as wholesome, quirky, but attractive.

After transforming themselves, both of them decided that becoming cheerleaders was mundane, and the matter of fact was, that they were already the popular girls. They didn't need join clubs or activities to make them stand out; they already did, by being _themselves._

Dylan shifted her eyes in guilt when she reminded herself how she transformed herself. During the break while they were transforming themselves, she never really told Layne how she _actually_ lost her weight. It was too disgusting to tell, it involved some laxatives and purging.

"Dyl," Layne waved her hands in front of her, almost knocking their cappuccinos mugs onto the ground, "How are things with you and Dempsey?"

"The same as always," Dylan sighed in defeat, she stuck her lower lip out, "He won't budge, no matter what I do."

Dempsey Solomon, her adorable boyfriend, who had caramel blonde hair with highlights and dimples that seem unnatural, was known to be the all rounded American boy. He was soccer-obsessed, athletic, played on three different sport teams—soccer, football and lacrosse—eco-friendly, caring, kind and generous. The guy _even_ went to Africa to help orphans. Not to mention, he was the leader of the boy scouts and was very good-looking, after shedding his baby fat during the seventh grade.

Dylan and Dempsey began dating in the middle of the ninth grade; they kissed, went on glamorous dates and made out. And it _stayed _that way, till _today_. She wanted go further with him, she wanted to have sex with him, make love to him, Dylan thought nothing could stand in her way, except that all changed last month. Out of the blue, her soccer obsessed and environment loving boyfriend, joined the virginity club, taking the pledge that he would not have sex until he was married. When she heard the news, Dylan wanted to drop dead, she couldn't wait that long, her hormones were always kicking in.

"I don't what his problem is," Dylan glared, she tightened her grip on the mug handle, "He told me numerous times that he loves me, so if he does, why can't he just give in?"

Layne placed her hand on top of Dylan's free arm, she pouted sympathetically, "Dempsey is probably scared," Her teal-coloured eyes and momentarily looked towards the ceiling, she focused back on her friend and beamed, "but don't worry Dyl, sooner or later he's bound to give in, I mean, look at you, you're hot!"

She swatted Layne's hand playfully, tittering into her own palms, "I know, right?" She continued to laugh, "I'll just find a way to convince him before he knows it,"

The quirky girl flashed her grin; she turned to the right and noticed the blonde, the one they were commenting on before, leaving the place. "She reminds me of someone,"

"Who?"

"The blonde," Layne narrowed her bug eyes and tapped her chin with her finger. Her eyes widened as the answer came to her mind, "I know! She reminds me of Alicia Rivera," Layne snapped her fingers, "Doesn't she?"

"_Alicia_?" Dylan scrunched her nose, the name of her old best friend felt weird coming out from her mouth, "I don't think so, other than the boobs, yeah, but those two are so different." Dylan stole a quick glance before the busty blonde could not be seen anymore, Alicia and her? No way. Layne probably thought the two looked the same because of the size of the boobs, besides Alicia was always pretty, beautiful, and the other woman was not, _er,_ attractive, to put it nicely.

"Hey," Layne leaned forward, "Are Alicia's boobs fake? I mean they sure look like it,"

Dylan shook her head; she remembered that only Alicia and Claire were the only ones who wore a bra in the seventh grade. Dylan shifted her feet, she felt uncomfortable when she discussed about her old friends with Layne, in the seventh grade her, and Claire, Massie, Alicia and Kristen were always so vicious and cruel towards Layne and her group of friends.

The red head focused on the table, noticing there were crumbs of brownies left by the customers before them. The crumbs reminded her of a time in seventh grade around November, when Dylan and Claire did something horrible to Layne.

"Hey, Layne," Claire yelled, cupping her hands around her mouth, she and Dylan were walking around the neighbourhood, giving out brownies to random people, they wanted see if their new recipe they made out of boredom was any good. Layne was in front of them riding her _Bratz_ bike, she was alone, since her friends, Meena and Heather were busy.

"Yeah?" Layne swirled around; her face illuminated when she saw it was _the_ Claire Lyons who called her. The brunette stomped her feet on the ground to stop herself from pedalling and going on, "What is it?"

Claire whispered into Dylan's ear, barking orders. Once they were ready, Claire beamed at Layne and then, giving the red head girl a push forward.

"We wanted you to try out our special brownies," Dylan mumbled, she forced herself to look Layne straight in the eyes, it was then, she noticed that Layne had an unusual colour, teal, to be honest, Dylan thought it was very pretty, despite the day before, Claire had called it 'freaky' and 'awful-looking'. Dylan cleared her throat to maintain focus, "It's our new recipe."

"T-thanks," Layne appeared touched, she grabbed a piece that was on the edge on the plate, gobbling it up fast. "That was delicious," She showed Dylan a shy, grateful smile.

Guilt overwhelmed Dylan's body as soon as she saw the smile, nevertheless, she continued her given lines, "No problem, we baked it just for you,"

"That's so sweet of you guys," Layne's already abnormally huge eyes bulged out, "Why?"

Her genuine reaction, stumped Dylan. Yes, Layne was dorky, but Dylan knew she was dorky herself. If it haven't been for Claire, she knew in an instant that she would be getting the same treatment as Layne and her friends. Dylan opened her mouth to speak, suddenly, Claire abruptly, stepped in shrieking.

"_Layme_," Claire screeched in her face, "You just ate a mud brownie with worms!"

Layne's mouth hanged widely opened. She immediately spat out what she could, the crumbs of the mud brownie that came out were all over her bright orange poncho.

"_Ew,_" Claire said loudly, she grabbed Dylan's arm, leading the two of them away from the girl. She cackled and threw her head back. Claire gave Dylan a look when she noticed the red head didn't join her for a laugh.

Dylan forced herself to laugh to be in Claire's good grace, but quickly turned around to look at Layne. She was in tears and pedalling fast in the opposite direction. All of a sudden, Dylan didn't find the situation so _funny_, even if she was laughing.

Someone's annoying cell phone ringtone in the next table woke Dylan up from the memory. Across from her, Layne was fixated with her own cell phone, probably texts from Eli.

She lowered her eyes, away from Layne. The two never really openly discussed about that particular incident, or any other incidents involving the two of them that happened years ago. There just seemed to be an unspoken agreement not to bring any of it up, most likely since the two of them didn't want to relive the moments.

Dylan raised her eyebrows, glancing at her mug; it was almost empty, with only some chocolate powder stuck on the bottom. She pulled out her purple alligator Gucci wallet, slapping down wads of bills on the rounded table, "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Layne put her phone away in her pocket; she grabbed her striped Kate Spade wallet, slamming her own bills down, hard. "Where do you want to 'shop'?" She air quoted the word shop since the two of them never really actually bought the items they wanted. Usually they would look around the glass displays; one of them would distract the sales person with mindless chatter, while the other would slip the item into their purses. Stealing was illegal, but the thrill and rush it gave them, pumping their adrenaline at such high levels, made it all worthwhile. And they haven't been caught, yet, they were just that good.

"I don't know," Dylan stood up, pushing her chair in, "How about _Dolce & Gabbana's_?" She tucked her curls behind her ear, "I need a new pair of sunglasses anyways,"

"Sounds good," Layne agreed quickly, she licked her lips to get rid of the excess foam from her drink. She offered her elbow to Dylan, who immediately linked arms.

The two of them laughed aloud as they sashayed their way outside of Starbucks, laughed as they scattered through the mall. Dylan always had fun with Layne, whatever they would be doing, and today was no different. She felt important, stunning and elated, with their arms linked together tightly, showing their tight bond and friendship to the people in the shopping mall. She felt she was on top of the world.

After all, she was Dylan Marvil, and she was _marvelous_.

Oh, and Layne _too._

**[...]**

Massie Block stretched her legs across the back seat of her family's SUV. Since she was the only child, she had the pleasure and privilege to do so. Of course, she wasn't the only one in the back seat, sitting on her lap, was her adorable black pug, Bean, she was an exact replica of her stuff pug, _Puglina_, but life-like. Massie got Bean when she was in England, a gift from her dad. Although, she always felt it was more of a bribe. The time they entered into their new home in England, her dad, William, grabbed and pulled her aside, whispering, in her ear. "I got her for you, for not telling your mother." She remembered how he squeezed her shoulders, before giving her a grim smile, "thank-you,"

What William meant by 'not tell your mother' was the fact that, two years before they moved to England, Massie had caught her father cheating on her mother. It was purely by accident, she was going to the local park to sketch the view, but as she was about go on the bus, Massie realized she forgot her set of pastels at home. Racing back quickly as she could, she threw the front doors open and spotted her pastels sitting on the floor, she was about to leave, when she heard her father's voice coming from the kitchen and with an unfamiliar voice.

She crept close to the kitchen entrance, it was strange. Her father was supposed to be at work, but there he was in the kitchen with some stranger. As she leaned close to the wall, Massie listened into the conversation.

"Oh, _Will_, stop it," A high-pitched voice said, the person was giggling uncontrollably, "Wouldn't your wife come home and see us?"

"Don't worry," She heard her father said reassuringly, "She won't be home for hours," It sounded like her father had pulled the stranger closer to him as kissing sounds were audible.

"Wait," the stranger said, the kissing had stopped, "What about your daughter?"

Massie became frozen solid. The stranger knew about her? And she still continued the affair? Even more so, her father knew how much her mother loved him and how much Massie, herself, looked up to him. Well, that feeling washed away, today. Massie gritted her teeth, how could William do this? How dare he cheat on her mother? How dare he lie to her? She felt betray, no longer could she picture her father as the loving man she knew. Now, all she saw was a _cheater._

Her back stiffened when her father spoke once again.

"Massie..." William's voice trailed, he made a loud gulping noise. "She doesn't need to know that there's something going on between us. She would be crushed if she ever found out."

"I feel bad, I really do," The stranger replied back, there was a noise of thud that had followed her, indicating that she was most likely on the kitchen table, "But you can't deny that there's something strong between us."

"I know. And I don'—"

"How could _you_?" Massie jumped into the kitchen before her father could finish speaking, her words expressed in shock, disbelief and anger. She could see her father startled, his eyes nearly popping out of his sockets. Beads of sweat were starting to show and as for his face, it turned bright red. Unbelievably, she could see it all so clearly, despite her eyes welling up with tears.

Massie rubbed her eyes harshly, she glared at her father. "You're a _disgrace_ to this family," she said raising her voice, she felt wobbly, sick to her stomach. She twisted her body lightly and then gasped when she realized who her father had been cheating with on her mother.

It was none other than her father's business and art student and so-called prodigy—he once said—_Abby Boyd._ The twenty-three year old student, with the honey blonde blunt hairstyle and gorgeous cerulean-coloured eyes, was once someone Massie admired and spent time with, whenever the blonde agreed to babysit after her. Massie felt like throwing up right there, it felt like someone had punched her in the gut, not once, but twice, hard. Here, right in front of her amber eyes, were two people she thought she could trust, betraying her.

Massie swiveled around, unable to be in the same room with them, the tension was getting to her. Before completing storming out she yelled at the two of them, "I_hate_ you both. I hope you both rot in _hell!"_ She casted glares at the both of them, but stopped shortly at Abby, Massie clenched her fists and teeth, "_Skank_," she taunted.

She rushed out the kitchen, running to the front doors, ignoring her father, who was calling her name. She ran all the way to the bus stop, to the point she felt like spitting up blood and was out of breath, forgetting about her original purpose of going back home was to retrieve her pack of pastels, altogether.

After tracking her down, her father begged to her not to tell her mother—Kendra Block— of what she saw. He precisely said that the school he was to teach in England would not accept them as the school wanted a squeaky clean image from their family. Now, flash-forward two years, Massie hadn't spilled a word, and they weren't even in England anymore.

Massie felt something wet on her face, the sudden wet lick on her clear face, from her dog, Bean, made Massie jump, breaking her thoughts. She peered out of her window; she really was back in Westchester.

"Massie," William looked at her through the rear-view mirror, she refused to acknowledge him. "I know this is difficult for you, but please adjust to it."

She didn't know whether her father was speaking about the moving or hinting about the long-kept secret, so she played along. "I will," Massie sighed, while Westchester was home for her, she did truly miss England. She missed her friends she made at KISS, but most of all her boyfriend of two years, James Wright. The guys in Westchester never really got her, they didn't understand her. Her kookiness, weird and eccentric personality and style scared the guys in Westchester, yet, back in England, James understood her right away, which was the reason why he was her first and real boyfriend.

"Sweetie," Kendra said, she was fixing her hair, she got a blunt cut before arriving back, which was looking awfully close to Abby's—the _skank_—hairstyle, "I know moving is hard, but you'll get use to it." She turned around and smiled at her daughter, "Westchester was our first home, so it will be a breeze."

"I know, Mom." Massie leaned her cheek against the window, glancing outside. The city still looked exactly the same. The tall trees, the enormous shopping plazas, the beautiful mansions, it was like nothing ever changed throughout the three years, when she was missing.

But that was false.

There was one thing that did still changed Westchester till this day.

And that was the murder and disappearance of Claire Lyons, one of her old best friends.

Despite years later, Massie couldn't help, but feel that the city was still hung over Claire's murder. She spotted numerous missing posters hung on telephone poles, outside shop windows and the local community board. And, there was the half-ripped large poster that was painted by school kids that stated, 'We miss you Claire. Please come home' the poster, hanging lifelessly, on a wooden sign plank. It felt like Claire was still here, like she never completely left.

Even back in England, Massie sometimes thought she spotted Claire out of the blue, whether it was during errands, dates or at times, school. Though, she knew there was no way Claire could be at England, the blonde died before her family moved there. Although, Massie remembered she hinted at it after school in mid October in seventh grade, it was the day later, when Claire had found out she was accepted in the JV soccer team.

Claire and Massie licked the ice cream cones they had bought from the local convenience store, 'Grab-n-Go' that was two blocks down OCD. The two skipped their last period, which was art with their snooty teacher Vincent. Claire invited the others to come, but Kristen flat out refused as she was scared that it would ruin her GPA and her perfectionist image. Alicia told them she had an important dance practice right after her last class and Dylan claimed she was on diet, so ice cream was not an option.

"It's their loss," Claire said in a bitchy tone of voice, she licked a drip of her mocha flavoured ice cream before it splashed onto the ground. "What should we do today?"

Massie shrugged her shoulders, while holding her cone filled strawberry flavoured ice cream, tenderly, "How about the park?"

"_Again?_" Claire looked bored. Her mouth formed into a line, "Why do you always go there? It's so _boring_."

The central park was a place for Massie to escape. It was where she could sit alone with her thoughts, use her imagination to cheer her up and more importantly, forgetting about everything that was going on, especially the incident about her father and Abby.

"It's nice," Massie mumbled sheepishly, knowing well that any answer she would give wouldn't please her friend, "It has a nice view, and it's pretty quiet."

"Yeah sure," The blonde wasn't impress, like she predicted, "It's a place for you to forget your _daddy problems"_ Claire simpered.

The amber eyed girl gave her a look, two days before; the two of them were running away from Layne Abeley who was following them, like a lost puppy dog. As they turned to a corner of the street, Claire was the first to notice that William was making out with Abby in the Block's Range Rover.

"I still can't believe you didn't tell me!" Claire fumed, her voice traced with bitterness. She crunched the bottom of her cone, particles of it fell, "Remember the story I told you about secrets?"

The story about secrets, technically, it really wasn't a story; it was more of a saying made up by Claire, herself. Claire kept going on and on how sharing secrets with one and another would bond them for life and each of them would be friends forever.

While Massie didn't quite believe the story, she did feel that telling and sharing secrets with Claire did make them bond, but for the _worse._ The bubbly blonde would always subtly talk about her dad and Abby in front of the others, Massie hated that. It was if this secret kept her bonded with Claire, until the truth was out.

"I do," Massie said, she examined her melting ice cream, like an artwork, fascinated with it, "I… _forgot_."

"How can you forget something major like that?" Claire sneered, she took a bite out of her cone, she glared at the ground, but then softened her face. "Well," She beamed, sweetly to her, "Your family always has been _screwed_."

"What?"

"Nothing," Claire snapped, quickly. She pulled a strand of her long blonde hair from her head, tugging on it impatiently, "Look, I've been really anxious since I made the team, and I'm worried that I might be a good team player, so I'm sorry if I take it out on you, okay?"

Massie was stunned; she never heard Claire apologized before. "Uh…..it's okay."

"Good," Claire appeared relieved. She approached a tiny pebble, kicking it onto the road, "sometimes I wish I could leave this place and go somewhere exciting, then I wouldn't have to keep thinking about exciting things to do here,"

"We might move," Massie said, she watch her friend look on with keen interest, "it depends on my dad or not."

The sweet girl gazed at her, her face flickering with a sad smile for a quiet moment, "well if you do," she said, "remember that even if you leave, Westchester never really leaves you."

Massie sighed, wondering what Claire meant by that. Was the city that mysterious it followed the residents around? And what did she mean by her family was always screwed?

"Massie," Kendra snapped, bringing her back to reality, "We're here."

Her head shot up, straight ahead was their new house. For one thing, it was huge, a lot bigger than the house they bought back in England. Their new residence was quite cute and dainty, actually, from what she could see; there was a cozy, quaint guesthouse.

She giggled as she saw the movers already standing in front, as the car pulled forward.

"Sweetie," Kendra unbuckled her seatbelt when William parked, "I know we just got here, but we wanted you to have the opportunity to explore the city, you know, get used to it." She twirled her wedding ring, and with the other hand, grabbed the leash of the pudgy little pug, she continued speaking to her daughter, "we have and hired enough movers, but if you want to stay and help out you can."

"No, I'll pass," Massie grinned from ear to ear, she searched for her car keys from her wool bag, once she got it, she jiggled it in the air triumphantly, "Thanks Mom," there was a long pause, "William."

She got out of the SUV, charging towards her own car, a dark green, beat-up Subaru that was imported in Westchester a day before. Luckily, even if her family was 'screwed', they were easy-going, even her fath—William, (she refused to call him her father, daddy, or dad after the incident) at times.

Opening the front door and settling in, she wondered where she would go first.

The mall? The school? The park?

She put the keys in the ignition, and glanced up in time, happening to have a clear, frontal view of her father cowering in the corner of the house, talking into his cell phone while her mother entered the house with Bean. The position he was in, his body language, his golden-brown eyes shifting from place to place, she knew he acted that way when he was talking to _her_, Abby Boyd.

A sudden feeling sunk into her stomach.

To the _bar_, she decided, _yeah,_ the local bar.

At least when she was there, she could _drink_ down all her sorrows and problems right away.

**[...]**

Kristen Gregory brushed her long, wavy dirty blonde hair out of the way of her clear, aqua eyes as she murmured to herself while working her way through her AP biology class homework. She frowned at the sight of her answer for question three, cringing, really. Was it meiosis or mitosis that was the process of the number of chromosomes reduced in half through the separation of homologous pairs of chromosomes? She didn't know, she did always get the two process confused. She had at least seven more questions to go, before jumping to her AP psychology writing assignment about the function of the lateral hypothalamus.

She clenched her teeth, honestly, she didn't know why she had to take so many of these AP courses—biology, psychology, chemistry, physics—in the summer. Right now she could have been sharpening on her kicking for soccer or attend and learn about extracurricular activities such as pottery or baking. It wasn't like the courses were stressing her out, she knew she could handle the load, and the only benefit was that she had a major head start than all her classmates. But, the main source and motivation and true reason was to _please_ her parents, Ted and Marsha Gregory.

They always doted that she was their '_little genius'_, and bragged about her to their relatives. Kristen guessed that they expected her to be a year ahead than her peers. Her parents wanted her to get into Yale or Harvard before anybody else in her year, it was tiring, but if it made them proud, it was _worth _it.

Kristen sighed in defeat, knowing her parents, they were wrong. They had their hopes to high. She wasn't the 'little genius' they so-believed in. She just wasn't. She was Kristen Michelle Gregory, a hard-working and smart student of Westchester Day High, she was far from being their ideal, perfect and genius daughter, that _role_was already _taken_, by her older cousin, Ali Marie Gregory.

While she was the niece to them, Kristen assumed that her parents wanted Ali to be their real daughter instead. Ali's parents, who was Kristen's Aunt Ginny and Uncle Peter were killed in a freak car accident when Ali was only eight, thus, this eventually lead Ted and Marsha to raise Ali on their own and as their own. Though, they were cousins, at times, it felt like Ali was her older sister, they were that close, yet that all changed in later years. Ali was smarter than Kristen, more hard-working, obedient, she was the ideal daughter that Ted and Marsha wanted and visualized. The way her parents praised Ali whenever she accomplished something, the way they lavished her with gifts when they found out something positive and the way their faces brighten whenever Ali achieved a goal, their expressions said it all, they were always proud of Ali, no matter what she did. Despite achieving some of her own goals, Kristen never really saw the same, exact reaction from her parents, as they did with Ali. Sure, her parents did call her their 'little genius', yet, they didn't seem too genuine about the so-called nickname they gave her. The only time Marsha and Ted would seem upfront and genuine about it was whenever there was a Gregory's Family reunion. They had to have something to brag about of their own daughter and of course, make sure the Gregory name was viewed as _prestigious_ and all _glorifying_.

Kristen suspected herself that her parents started calling her the given nickname was because they knew themselves; they were neglecting their own daughter, in favour of Ali. At least Kristen thought, her parents would always counter and defend themselves by stating that they gave her a nickname, and not Ali whenever she would argue that Ali received more attention, respect and even to some degree, _love._

Kristen glanced at a heart-shape frame that was on top of spare notebooks, the photo that was placed inside was taken years ago. The photo showed the two Gregory's having their arms around each other, giggling over something Ted had said—her father probably mispronounced 'cheese' as 'choose'. The dark blonde sighed as her fingers traced the outline of the frame, examining the photo. It was the time when she and Ali got along so well together, they used to play Barbies together, sing musicals, write their own stories, had their own puppet shows, do arts and crafts together, it was the time when they do anything and everything with one another, in fact, they were_ best_ friends.

She missed those years. That was the time when Kristen and Ali could have fun over the littlest things and not start a competition out of everything. And even if they did, the competitions would have not been taken so seriously. Now, in the later years of their lives, competition between her and Ali meant everything. While competitiveness was a good thing, (Kristen read it in an article from a newspaper) their level of competitiveness between each other was extremely high and worst, things began to escalate each year that passed. Kristen knew why she and Ali competed with each other so fiercely, it was because they both wanted to make Marsha and Ted proud, to make them _acknowledge_ their work and them, but the thing that made her question, sometimes confused, was she didn't know what exactly driven them to be the way they were and when it began.

Their rivalry was always filled with tension, and was becoming worse as the rivalry between them was still brewing and ongoing. Regardless of being highly competitive, it seemed that no matter what she did, Ali was always better at her in everything, she upped Kristen at the things they challenged and took on. When Ali was a freshman, she became the treasurer of student council, a library monitor, got accepted onto the cheerleading squad and was the second smartest student in her grade—the first was being, Harris Fisher. In her freshman year, Kristen was only a member of the student council, she did become a library monitor, but didn't have the special privileges like Ali got, she got rejected from the squad, and was the fourth smartest student in her grade—right behind Dahn Burdock, Chris Plovert and Layne Abeley. And when sophomore year came, Ali was vice-president of the student council, co-captain of the squad, the head library monitor, a tutor, she got in the girls' volleyball, field hockey and basketball team and was the lead in the school play, nabbing the part of Juliet, while opposite of her, Harris was playing Romeo. And for her sophomore year, Kristen finally became the treasurer of the student council, she was still a regular library monitor, she wasn't a tutor since the teacher didn't think she was qualified enough, the only sport team she was on was soccer and for the play she was behind the scenes.

Come tomorrow, Kristen would be starting Junior year, and she knew her parents expected her to do everything Ali had done in her Junior year and _more._ Her cousins was president of student council, captain of the cheerleading squad, the head tutor and library monitor, the captain of the girls' volleyball, field hockey and basketball team, director of the school play, coached the freshman lacrosse team, a yearbook editor and photographer, participated as a baton twirler and received a 4.0 GPA.

Kristen groaned, knowing that half the stuff Ali achieved back in Junior year was out of her reach. So far, going in school tomorrow, she was appointed the captain of the girls' soccer team, the Sirens. But everything else, she would have to join and do immediately. She just had to, she was a perfectionist at heart, plus, her need to show Ali off, that and making her parents proud made Kristen thrilled.

Of course, while Ali looked like she got it all, perfect grades, a high achiever, captain of almost everything, Kristen beat her in one thing, her _boyfriends_.

Ali was pretty, there was no doubt about that, however, she was a prude and a bitch. Her high strung personality seemed to be the cause of the demise of her relationships; also, the majority of her boyfriends always had a thing for Kristen.

One memory that clearly stood out in Kristen's mind and resonated at times was an incident that occurred way back in seventh grade. She remembered how Harris was waiting for Ali outside the Gregory's garage.

"Harris?" Kristen glanced at him with surprise; she was at the community center playing soccer. After two hours and twenty-eight minutes she called quits. The blonde usually went through the front door of her house, but opted to go through the garage so she could place the soccer ball back at its original place. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey, Kris," Harris smiled at her, his fingers running through his black hair while he leaned against silver Lexus. "Waiting for Ali, you know how long she takes."

"Oh," Kristen patted her side braid, making sure it was neat. She tucked the soccer ball under her arms and looked at the surrounding around them, while secretly taking small peeks at Harris. Harris Fisher, her neighbour, was gorgeous. Naturally, the more he came over to hang out; Kristen developed a huge crush on him. It was sad that he had a thing for Ali, in Kristen's opinion he could do so much better than her uptight cousin.

"Did you make the JV team, yet?" Harris asked, he flashed a devious smile, like he knew that she was checking him out.

"I—uh," Kristen blabbered idiotically, her face flushing. "_No,_"

"_Really?_ I've seen you play, you're probably the best soccer player in your grade."

"Thanks," Kristen mumbled shyly, while shuffling her feet.

Harris laughed, "You're so modest, Kris." He stopped for a second, "I think you should have been on JV team, instead of Claire."

Kristen felt her insides melt with glee. _Yes! _At least one person acknowledged that she was the far better soccer player than Claire, and that meant a lot. Everybody was going on how much Claire was better at, kicking and what not, but she didn't have the heart or passion Kristen had. Besides, getting into the JV team was popularity contest with the high school students, the majority of them knew Claire already, so they knew who they would be picking.

"Harris!" Ali's sickening high-pitched voice yelled, coming from the inside of her room, distracted them from carrying their conversation, "I'll be down in a minute, hold on."

"Well," Kristen said, giving him a little wave, "Have fun on your date with Ali."

He nodded at her, "See you Kris."

Walking towards the open garage door, Kristen lost her balance; she dropped the ball onto the ground, she realized her foot somehow hitting against a jagged thing on the floor, a rock. Her body was tumbling forward to the cement ground; she let out a scream, closing her eyes shut.

_Huh?_

Kristen opened one of her eyes, blinking rapidly; she faced the cement ground that she would have hit against, had it not been for Harris. She felt his warm, muscular arms grab her, wrapping around her waist.

"You okay?" Harris asked, his eyebrows raised, he had the slightest teasing smirk on his gorgeous face.

"Yeah," Kristen bit on her lip as she positioned herself upright. She glanced up, studying his face, body frame and his 6 foot height. She started to giggle nervously, if she tiptoed, she would be at the level of his face, she was pretty tall for a seventh grader, second to Dylan, who was the tallest girl in the class.

Realizing that Harris's arms were still wrapped around her, Kristen dared herself to give him a peck on a cheek as a nice way of saying 'thank-you'. She tiptoed forward, puckering her lips and planted right on his left cheek. She smiled when she spotted the surprised look on his face and then grinned when she saw delight on his face.

Before they knew it, Harris tightened his arms and Kristen threw hers around his neck. They both giggled as they glanced into each other eyes and then, darting their eyes into different directions to make sure Ali or anybody would see them. They were clear.

They inched forward, with Kristen leaning forward and Harris crashing downwards. As their lips pressed together, Kristen started running her fingers through his dark, messy hair and Harris, pulling her closer by her tiny waist to his body. Their lips locked tightly, the two were out of breath, but that didn't stop them, she thought nothing would stop them until…

"_Harris!_" Ali screamed once more, from inside of the Gregory's house, a thudded noise was heard; it must have meant that Ali was speeding down the wooden spiral stairs.

Both their eyes were shot open; Kristen pushed herself off him and took a big gulp of air. She watched Harris fix his hair, while stepping backwards, going back to his original position, leaning back against his Lexus.

"I got to go," Kristen swallowed nervously, she patted her clothes making sure all the wrinkles she got from leaning against her cousin's boyfriend was gone.

"Yeah," Harris said, looking equally nervous and guilty, he shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'll see you,"

She nodded, taking it as a cue to leave and finally go back into her house. Whirling her entire body away from him, Kristen scuttled forward; she was only inches away from the open garage door, when she felt Harris' arms tugging her once again, but this time, not on her waist, on her elbow.

Kristen turned around, "Yeah?"

Harris stood there, his arms still tugging on her elbow, he whispered into her ear, "Let's keep this between us, alright, Kris?" He brushed the loose strands of her hair behind her ear, "this is just a _secret _that _we _will only know."

"O…kay," She finally mustered. Kristen glanced at his arms, which were still attached onto her elbow; she shifted her gaze to his face, then his arms. "Uh, shouldn't you…..?" She pointed at him, and then motioned towards the house; Ali's footsteps were clearly audible, by now.

He smiled brightly, displaying his perfect, natural straight white teeth at her; Harris leaned forward and whispered once again. "By the way, you're a better kisser and way prettier than Ali." The senior boy winked at her.

At that moment, he dropped his arms around from Kristen and when he did, Ali appeared.

"Harris," Ali said, while walking towards him, "I'm sorry I took so long, I— " She stopped midway and glanced at Harris and Kristen, who were suspiciously close together, "Oh," She said in a snobby tone, "I didn't see you there Kris," The older blonde approached Harris swiftly, blocking her little cousin's view, Ali laced her fingers into his, she looked behind to see Kristen and then back to Harris, "Let's go now,"

"Sure," Harris grinned, he gazed at Ali for a quick second, suddenly, without her noticing, looked behind her to throw another wink at Kristen, mouthing, _remember our little secret_.

Kristen blushed when she watched them drive away, not only did Harris complimented her on her kissing; he said she was a lot prettier than Ali. She sighed, maybe in a few years, when she got a little older, and then _she_ and Harris could date, _not _Ali and Harris.

_Brinnnnggggg!_

"Shit," Kristen mumbled, the alarm she had set up for taking breaks brought her back to reality. She tied her hair into a high bun and pushed her rolling chair away from the desk. Kristen frowned, what she did with Harris was so wrong, but, to her, it felt so right. She remembered how during that day she was so anxious and excited to tell someone about the news, she phoned Claire about it.

The aqua-eyed girl remembered how Claire sounded like she was scowling in disbelief over the phone as she told her about the kiss with Harris. Kristen started to spin herself around and smirked, Claire was pissed that day because the two of them had this ongoing bet, a bet about who could kiss the most older boys. And, unfortunately for Claire, Harris was one of her top guys to kiss, and Kristen beat her to it.

"Kristmas?" Marsha poked her nosy head in her daughter's room. "Are you busy?"

"Huh?" Kristen scurried back to her desk, dragging the rolling chair. She grabbed her pencil, holding it straight. "Oh, yes."

Marsha entered the room, paddling over to where Kristen was. She stared at her daughter and her surroundings. The straight line which was her lips turned into a small, sympathetic smile, "Oh, you're doing your homework."

"Yup," Kristen mustered a smile; she glanced at her mother, noticing she was wearing a necklace that was heavily studded with large diamonds and earrings to match. She went back to face her biology homework, tapping her pencil on the page. "Uh, so you don't mind mom, I need to go back."

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Marsha put her arms around her shoulders, "You've been working really hard the entire summer, so I'm giving you a break."

"Wait," Kristen widened her eyes; she cocked her head to the side, "Are you serious?"

Her mother chuckled, "Yes. In fact why don't you go to the mall and buy something nice for yourself? How about buying yourself a new outfit?" Marsha handed her a huge amount of wads of bills, placing it into her daughter's palms.

"Thanks," She said in shock. Kristen stuffed the cash into her leather wallet, this was weird. Her mother was never the type to give her money; after all, Kristen always worked hard during the school year. She bit down, wondering if there was a hidden motive for a fleeting moment. She shrugged, and got up to hug her mother, "Thank-you, mom."

"No worries," Marsha waved her off, "I do have one favour, don't buy any of the sport brands, you know like _Nike_, _Puma_ or _Adidas_, okay?"

"Er, sure," Kristen got up, walking towards her closet.

"Good," her mother said cheerfully, she strolled out of Kristen's room, but before, she was entirely out, she swivelled her head around, "Make sure to buy something_really _nice. We want to look _good _for dinner, _Ali_ is _coming_."

As she heard her mother's footsteps walking away, Kristen's face dropped. She _knew_ it, there had to be a motive for her mother to give her money. It was so unlikely of her to do so. Kristen scowled, the only time they ever gave her money was when it involved her cousin, and she had to buy something nice for Ali,_especially _for _Ali._

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Lisi Harrison owns the Clique and Sara Shepard owns Pretty Little Liars.

This was suppose to be up two weeks ago, but due to my tendency to write long-ass chapters and inability to write short ones, it took longer then I expected.

I like flashbacks, don't you? :)

So for this story, there are going to be bits of PLL references from the book and the TV show, so if you spot them, YAY!

Please, read & review :D


	4. How i Met My Lover

_**"She's gone, but she's everywhere..."**_

-Spencer Hastings on about Alison DiLaurentis, in 'Pilot'

* * *

Strolling through the east wing of Westchester Grand Mall was one of Dylan's favourite things to do; it was also the part of the mall that she enjoyed shopping at the most. The east wing was luxurious; it had all the stores that _spoke_ to Dylan, stores such as Gucci, Dolce & Gabbana, Michael Kors, Coach, Kate Spade, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Burberry and Tiffany's. Even the decors outside the stores were beautiful, the lights that were hung up, shone down brightly, making those who browsed around sparkle like rubies.

On the days she would shop in the east wing by herself, Dylan pouted sadly. The entire wing was something her old best friend Claire Lyons would have loved. If, Dylan sparkled like rubies, then Claire, definitely would have stood out, and sparkled like _diamonds_. In a place like Westchester, were everything and everyone was so neatly, packaged and viewed as perfect, Claire somehow always managed to stand out, a quality Dylan was immensely jealous of.

Glancing out of the corner of her twinkling emerald eyes, the redhead noticed a guy in his 20's, playing with an iPad. Dylan scrunched her nose, watching him play with the electronic device, made her heart pang. With Claire being dead, there were so many things the blonde had missed out on. Things such as the iPad, the east wing of the mall, the boy band One Direction, the comeback of oversize glasses and Allie-Rose Singer's extravagant sweet sixteen bash. But the most important thing that Dylan sorely believed the blonde had miss out on—even though it sounded shallow and selfish—was Dylan's huge transformation.

It sucked that Claire wasn't able to see the way Dylan looked now. The former Alpha probably wouldn't have believe that the once dorky, fat, dried skin, frizzy red-haired girl would been able to transform into a more confident girl, who was slimmer, had nice skin and a smooth, silky mane. That was one thing that Dylan wished Claire could be alive to see, she just wanted Claire to praise her and give the satisfaction, that she too, was beautiful, like her old best friends, and not the lame, dorky, fat one in the group.

Sometimes, whenever she was inspecting herself, or her outfit or makeup, she'd imagined that Claire was right behind her, perched on her gigantic plushy, queen-sized bed, the pale-blonde either criticizing or critiquing on her appearance, like before.

Dylan pursed her glossy lips out, though at times, wondering why she blindly idolized Claire back in the day. When thinking back, Claire was a _bitch_. She would always make fun of Dylan's weight in front the others; the girl would repeat over and over her darkest secrets out in the open, dangling her secrets, like a yarn ball in front of a kitten. And even more so, during the group's weekly sleepovers, Claire would always state that Dempsey would never like a 'fat girl like you'. So when Dylan managed to snag her boyfriend, Dempsey Solomon in freshman year, the red head really, _really_ wished that Claire was alive to see it. Dylan remembered how Claire would snip at her, stating that she would never have a chance of being Dempsey's girlfriend. Well, Dylan proved her wrong, and to an extent she proved herself wrong. In the seventh grade, Dylan would always doubt herself, but those negative thoughts were gone, _sometimes._

"Ready?" Layne asked, her question forcing Dylan to focus on the present, the dark brunette motioned her head towards the target store they were going to 'shop' at, _Dolce & Gabbana_.

Nodding her head, Dylan took over, leading the two of them into the massive high-end store. Once entering, the bright white lights bounced on them, creating tiny specs all over their bodies. The glass displays holding the vast amounts of glistening jewelleries looked stunning and flawless.

"See anything good, yet?" Layne asked in a hush tone, she widened her bulgy teal coloured eyes at Dylan with great interest.

The two of them were browsing. More specifically, they were eyeing the fancy necklaces and the pretty charm bracelets that were in the box-shaped glass display. There were numerous choices to pick from—well, in their case, to _steal_ from. From the glistening gold necklaces which were cute and the shimmery silver charm bracelets which were, well, _charming_.

Dylan furrowed her perfectly shaped and waxed eyebrows together, she couldn't make up her mind, all the items she spotted and studied so far, were desirable. She tasted her strawberry-coloured lip gloss as she licked her lips; it was her turn to take something as earlier on, before the break at Starbucks, Layne already nabbed silver earrings encrusted with tanzanite at Tiffany's.

She shook her head, her tight ringlets flicking in all directions. "Nothing, yet." Dylan murmured to her best friend, she gave the weird girl a meaningful look, "I'm going to search for some oversized sunglasses. I'll call or text you when I need you." She watched Layne nod her head and then scamper off to some part of the store, most likely heading to the accessory section.

The fiery redhead padded away from the jewellery displays and marched forward to the back wall were the various sunglasses were placed on the shelves. She would have made a smooth transition there, had it not been for some stupid blonde klutz crashing right into her, who turned left, where Dylan was.

All the clothing the blonde was holding exploded to the ground. Cashmere sweaters, a selection of skirts and sparkly dresses were all over the clean marble floor.

Dylan groaned in pain. Her landing was off, as she landed right on her ass. There was _so_ going to be a bruise tomorrow. She quickly pushed herself up, standing and hovering over the blonde. Her arms were on her waist, a usual stance she did to show she was annoyed. "Watch were you're going," The red head snarled.

She was about to make a vicious, catty comment about the blonde, but stopped herself on time, recognizing the girl. Dylan blinked; her pursed lips became a straight line, "_Kristen?_" Her voice started to become hoarse, even to the point of sounding foreign when calling her old friend's name.

Dylan watched her old friend, Kristen, reached for her clothing, lumping them hastily, somehow managing the items into a huge organized Kristen-like pile before answering back. Finally, with the gear all gathered in her tanned arms, the blonde stood up, her aqua eyes widened, surprised. "Hey, Dylan."

"Hey," the red head replied back, quite awkwardly. Mentally, Dylan made a face. It was awkward on how the two of them couldn't carry an actual conversation. After Claire's disappearance their tiny, close-knitted group dissembled. Part of which, Dylan found sad. The four of them were all so different, unique, but that made them dynamic. Dylan missed all their tiny quirks, she missed how Massie, the art freak, would just sketch them at random times, she missed how Alicia, who was super shy, would just create a mini routine for them each of them, even performing in the public, when something great happened to one of them. She missed how Kristen, the one in the group who was super uptight and anal at times, could be the one who would thought of something so fun, it made them clutch their stomachs laughing with tears streaming down their faces.

It was odd really, knowing something detailed about someone who she wasn't friends with anymore. Really though, what was even more odd—and to the borderline of depressing—was that her and Kristen, (and the other two) they weren't even acquaintances, they were more or less, _strangers_.

Quickly without her the dark blonde noticing, she did a one over of her former friend. Typical, Kristen looked exactly the same from the last time they spoke—which was months ago; she had the same lavender Nike runners, the same Puma sweatshirt and was still styling her long wavy blonde hair into a sloppy high bun. Dylan didn't understand it though, since three years ago, Kristen became rich, the blonde could have bought, well, nice clothing, fashionable clothing like herself, not the gaudy sporty outfits she was still sporting when she was poor.

"So...how are you, Dylan?"

Dylan forced a smile, showing her ex-friend that she was staring at the merchandises, when really, she was checking to see if there was anything different about Kristen. Though, Dylan did noticed that Kristen grew an inch taller, still, she herself, was an inch taller than the blonde, she was 5'8" the height of supermodels, and the red head considered that a win.

"Not much. I'm just shopping with Layne." Dylan raised an eyebrow, "I'm surprised that you're shopping in a place like here, though."

"Same here," Kristen mumbled. There was a noticeable tinge of irritancy in her voice; she exhaled deeply, "I'm only here because I have to buy something...nice for dinner." The soccer player took in Dylan's confused expression, "Ali is coming back, so my parents want to treat her to a celebratory dinner tonight."

"Ali?" Dylan's emerald orbs grew, "I thought she's still in NYU. Doesn't she still have a year before graduating?"

The blonde blew air out from her mouth with an annoyed attitude, "Well, Ali being Ali, she graduated one year early from the business program." Kristen winced a little bit, "So now, I have to find something _extremely_ fancy to wear for her dinner."

"Oh," the popular girl bit on her lip, accidently scraping part of her strawberry coloured Dior lip gloss. If she remembered correctly, Kristen and her older cousin Ali had this intense, high tensioned rivalry between them about _anything_. That would explain the small antics Kristen was displaying, whenever she had mentioned about Ali's achievement, which in this case, her cousin graduating a year early.

Dylan feigned a small, tight smile towards her old friend, "You want me to help you find something?"

"No it's okay," Kristen waved her off, "I got a tight schedule anyways," she shrugged her shoulders causally; "I guess I'll see you tomorrow?"

"I guess," the red head herself gave a disheartened shrug. She lifted her arm halfway up, waving to Kristen as the blonde wandered to the back of the store, where the lofty changing rooms were placed.

She sighed, wondering how she and Kristen were so distant, when just years ago; they were so close, so close that they were inseparable. While she did admired Claire for her confidence, and idolized her, she wasn't as close to the pale-blonde as she was with Kristen, now they were, like she thought before, they were merely strangers.

It was funny how times can change, but then again, maybe it was the _people_ who changed.

Dissolving her thoughts by biting the edge of the tip of her tongue, Dylan stood up straight and confidently strode to the back, where the sunglasses were being displayed. She searched the wall, in a quick overview; she knew which sunglasses she wanted, the brown leopard print sunglasses was calling to her. Dylan grinned; she stretched out her arm and retrieved it. Smoothly, she tucked it on top her head, behind her ears.

Now all she had to do was to text Layne to get out of the store. Just as she was about to type a text to her best friend, magically out of nowhere, Layne bumped from behind.

"Dyl," Layne grabbed her arm, tightly. She cocked her head in a pleading way, "Are you done?"

The red head grinned coyly; she too reached for Layne's long arms, linking them with hers. "Let's get out of here."

Each time Dylan stole something, a huge wave of adrenaline tingled through her body. It was illegal to steal stuff, at first it started out with chocolate bars, notebooks, and then gradually the items she and Layne would take, the values would go higher. But, despite the possibility of being caught, the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of it, felt great, it made her feel like a bigger badass each time she stole something.

When approaching the exit, Dylan felt her heart thump and hammer loudly, her palms became moist, nevertheless, she sucked in a deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut, preparing a plan, if the alarms blared off.

Luckily, nothing did. And the two of them were out with the merchandises they took.

Taking one small peek at the Dolce & Gabbana's clueless security guard, Layne smirked triumphantly, "Nice going," she praised, "Want to go to Kate Spade? Their newest collections of purses are to die for."

"No," Dylan said firmly, "I think we're done for today," she ignored Layne's puppy dog's pout, and kept on walking until she stopped at the front of the French restaurant, _Au Soleil_. The girl motioned her head towards the eatery, "I'm hungry, let's have a quick bite." She didn't even wait for Layne's response as she entered; the red head expected her best friend to follow her lead, which she did.

The two were lead to an elegant round table, surrounded with nylon covered seats by the semi-pretty hostess. With the fancy menus given to them, Dylan snatched the one in front of her, quickly scanning the menu. She creased her forehead, the majority of the dishes were cooked in such high amounts of fat and oil, she sighed, Au Soleil was the best restaurant in town, so it really wasn't a surprise. Anyhow, she already decided on the steamed cod, with a side order of Caesar salad—the dish that had the least amount of fat and low calories.

"Hey," Layne clutched onto her purse, she stood up away from the table, "Order for me, okay?" The brunette blinked, "I have to fix my makeup, it's smudged. I want the steamed cod with the side plate of salad."

"Sure," Dylan's eyes flickered in amusement, she watched Layne sashay her way to the bathroom, and grinned at the thought of great minds _do_ really think alike.

While Layne was away, Dylan removed her _HP Palm Pre 3_ cell phone out of her brown Louis Vuitton purse, checking to see if Dempsey had texted her. She grimaced, he hadn't. What was his problem? He promised he would have text right after his Lacrosse practice, and by this time, it should have been over.

The red head girl was too focused to notice the waiter who approached their table, hovering over her, who was waiting patiently.

"Dylan Marvil?"

She quickly turned her phone's screen off and glanced up, annoyed. There she saw a tall, familiar, curly-brown-haired waiter, standing above. It was none other than Christopher Plovert—who was mostly known by his last name— a boy she knew since seventh grade.

"Hey," she said dully, with a fake smile inching on her face.

"Hey," Plovert smiled at her, rather fondly, "I'm guess I'm your waiter for today."

Dylan flinched.

After all this time, the boy still had a crush on her. It was weird, bizarre, even. Back in seventh grade, Chris, who was popular at that time, _liked _Dylan. She couldn't understand why, from all her friends she always wondered why he chose to like her, she never found out due to the _incident._ Around Valentine's Day, there was a rumor that spread around the school that he was going to visit OCD just to give her a heart-shaped box of chocolates. Naturally upon hearing the news that a boy was going to give her chocolates in front of everyone, Dylan became excited, so much so, she couldn't sleep for days.

Then suddenly, the day right before Valentine's Day, there was a drastic change. Chris became unpopular, a loser, a dork.

At Briarwood, his close friends turned on him, laughing at everything he did. The girls at OCD ignored his very presence, giggling or sneering over his appearances. And then that was when the incident started swirling around, the incident of the rumor stating that Chris was an intersexual. She remembered the incident so well, since at first, she didn't even understand what the word meant.

"Christopher Plovert is an _intersexual,_" Claire announced loudly during break, she leaned against her locker, her arms crossed, looking very smug.

"A _what?_" Dylan asked, she made a face, taking out the cherry Popsicle she was sucking on. She looked at her group of friends, hoping they would explain the word to her. Both Alicia and Massie gazed the other way, leaving Kristen to explain.

"It means a hermaphrodite." The smart girl clarified.

"Ugh," Dylan groaned, "in simpler terms."

"A person who has both sex organs—"

"—basically, Dyl," Claire responded coolly, while sharply cutting Kristen off, "Chris is a _she-male_."

She glanced at the floor, studying the dirt on the linoleum in such detail. Dylan raised her head back up, talking in a small voice, "that's not true is it? I mean it is a rumor."

Their Alpha shrugged, Claire threw her arm around Dylan in support, "I don't know," she said sweetly, "but either way I wouldn't want to associate myself with him. Who knows? I might turn into one of _them_." The blonde smirked sinisterly, her focus all on Dylan, "I feel sorry for you Dyl, now that he's going to give you chocolates people might think you guys are together, and they'll think you're a loser too."

Dylan gaped at her and said nothing.

When she thought back about that memory, Dylan wondered if Chris transformed into a loser all because he liked her. While she was friends with Claire, it still didn't change the fact that she was the fat, dorky, klutzy one in the group. When Valentine's Day came, she remembered how she quickly stuffed the chocolates into her backpack, smashing them in the process, never thanking him for them.

"So, what will you be ordering, Dylan?"

She jumped, startled, as the boy brought her back to reality. Quickly, she skimmed him up and down. Chris still stayed as a loser. And to be seen with him would be social suicide, a disaster that could plunge her throne as queen bee to loser outcast.

Before answering the eager waiter, Layne's voice was heard from across the room.

"O-M-G," the quirky girl yelled, she had a disgusted look on her face, "_Ploser the Hermie_, is taking our orders?" Layne strutted towards the table, swiping her coat of the chair. She pierced a look at Dylan, urging her to leave. "If _he's_ serving us, I'd rather eat at McDonald's."

Like four years ago, Dylan gaped, saying nothing. Her head swivelled to Chris, who was ashen and then back to Layne, who raised her deep brown eyebrows, giving her the 'let's-get-the-hell-out-of-here' look.

For the first time in her life, she followed Layne's lead, both of them bolted out the restaurant.

Maybe what she thought about before, that maybe it was the people who changed, was true after all.

Though, if it was, Dylan didn't know whether she changed for the better or for the _worse._

**[...]**

Waves of anxiety hit through Alicia's dancer-framed body each time she drove down pass a street. With each street passing, she knew that she was getting closer in seeing Claire Lyon's old enormous Victorian house. And that made her very anxious.

Two years had passed, and slowly, it seemed the city of Westchester was moving on from Claire's disappearance. There were less articles being published about any updates. News reports were also beginning to take on a different shift, seemingly, the reporters had already given up. No one was searching anymore, nothing about clues, leads, anything that pointed to her suspicious disappearance and police confirmed death.

It didn't make sense though, who would want to kill Claire? Sure, some people might have not liked her and at times, the blonde did rub people the wrong way, but really was that justifiable to kill someone? To take's someone's life? To take some person's very existence?

Then again, Claire Lyons wasn't just some person. She was _the_ person people either loved or hated.

While it seemed the city moved on, Alicia didn't.

On the days she needed to turn for comfort, Alicia would dig up her seventh-grade yearbook, flipping to the section of Claire's picture; it was hard to do so, since every time she proceeded to glance at the three year old photos, the Spanish beauty had a sudden urgency to curl into a fetal position. And on days when boredom struck, the vivid mementos from Claire, the ones she kept and cherished, such as the written notes they wrote to each other, Alicia reread them, hoping that the little piece of papers would put her at ease.

It didn't.

She sighed in defeat, life without Claire was _lonely_. For quite some time, Alicia longed for another friend like the pale-blonde, of course, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Claire was _irreplaceable_; there would never be another person like her in town.

The raven-haired girl bit the insides of her cheeks to calm herself down, as she pulled up to Claire's house. The first thing that caught her attention was a big, white sign, leaning against the curb of the sidewalk, it was marked in red, strangely, almost resembling dripping blood, it stated, FREE. It was placed in front of a large pile of items.

Narrowing her radiant dark brown eyes skeptically, she realized that the pile of items was in fact Claire's. She immediately recognized Claire's mustard coloured La-Z-Boy bedroom arm chair. There were also numerous cardboard boxes surrounding the chair, marked with CLAIRE'S CLOTHING, CLAIRE'S BOOKS, CLAIRE'S PAPERS and MISCELLANIOUS ITEMS. Alicia blinked sadly, remembering the Lyon's had moved away almost a year ago, it was kind of weird seeing some of Claire's items being left behind.

After parking her black Volvo behind the purple minivan, Alicia hopped out quickly with the cookies placed in her hands, rushing to the pile of items. She towered over Claire's things, skimming the pile thoroughly. Her red lips started trembling, once she took in what she saw. Inside the cardboard box, marked CLAIRE'S BOOKS, she spotted the blonde's favourite books, she reached down touching the spines. Alicia lifted a novel up, realizing there were even more books, underneath, some of them were old ratty notebooks.

Crouching some more, the girl whirled her head around, inside the box of miscellaneous items was her old friend's dark oak jewellery box, Alicia opened the tiny drawer, amazed that necklaces, bracelets, brooches and earrings were still in there, intact. Beside the jewellery box were vast amounts of small boxes in white, dark blue and black. Randomly, she lifted a lid up, taking note that it was types of jewellery Claire probably didn't even wear since they looked untouched. In one box was a pair of neon green star shaped earrings, in another was an aquamarine charm bracelet, and the last one she opened was a silver ballerina figure brooch.

Wrinkling her nose in confusion, Alicia swore this was a gift she gave to Claire in seventh grade. Normally, seeing a gift that wasn't used would have offended her, but this time it didn't. The very brooch in front of her eyes, was used by Claire, she remembered because she saw it pinned onto Claire's purse the night she disappeared. Frantically, the Latina swirled her head around, it didn't make sense, what was the brooch doing here?

"Hey, do you want that? It's free."

Alicia dropped the box containing the brooch back into the cardboard box; she stood up abruptly, surprised. When she spun around, she came face to face with a pretty petite girl with blonde butterscotch curls and enchanting navy blue eyes.

The Spanish girl gulped, nervously. Right in front of her was a girl that had a striking resemblance to Claire, and not to mention, the girl was really pretty, almost looking like an alluring forest fairy what with her sun-kiss tanned skin, glowing, with the help of her neat locks of curls.

"No, it's okay," Alicia responded back, waving her hands in front, manically.

"Are you sure?" the girl pressed on, she pointed towards the huge, white sign on the curb, "you can take anything, it's free."

"Really," the dancer said, brushing the girl off once again, she put her hands in front, "I don't need it, I was just being nosy."

"Oh," the girl bounced her way over, she stuck out her hand, beaming at Alicia, "Hi, I'm Olivia Ryan, I just moved here with my family from California."

"I'm..." Alicia said, swallowing nervously, "I'm Alicia Rivera," she grabbed Olivia's hand and shook on it. The moment their hands met, a strange, warm feeling overcame her, maybe it was because she'd never shook hands with a girl before. Usually whenever the Latina met other females through classes, dance practice or clubs, she would usually wave.

That was probably it.

Olivia smiled at her some more, "Alicia Rivera," she repeated, closing her eyes until she drilled the name into her mind. The butterscotch blonde motioned her body to the pile of items; her head shook in disbelief, "When I moved into my room, all of this," she moved her fingers in a circular motion, signaling the items, "were in there. I can't believe the family who lived here before didn't think to take the stuff with them." The blonde sighed loudly, "I wish the person who owned the items at least donated or dumped it."

"Claire wouldn't have been able to." Alicia said quietly, when realizing what had spilled out of her mouth, she clasped her mouth with her free hand.

The newest resident of Westchester gave her a questioning stare, finally after taking small step backwards, Olivia cocked her head sideways, "Oh, so is this Claire person your friend?"

Her dark browns eyes widened largely, like saucers, in surprise. So Olivia really was new to town. Never had Alicia heard a word used in present term when referring to Claire for about two years.

Tucking a strand of her straight hair carefully, Alicia glanced to the ground, rather than into Olivia's curious navy orbs. "She was, years ago, actually. I mean, not only with me, but with other girls too." The gloomy girl softly mumbled, she began patting the side of her hair, not willing to include the part that Claire had disappeared or died in a gruesome way, she just couldn't stomach it.

The curious girl simply nodded. Her shiny eyes then, lit up once she saw Alicia's plate of cookies, "Hey, are those for me?" Olivia gestured her hand towards the dessert.

"Uh, yeah," Alicia stammered, "it's actually for your entire family." There was a long beat of silence, "it's a welcoming gift for you guys." Quickly, she placed the plate on top of Olivia's hand, brushing them with her own, she noted how soft Olivia's hands were, and they were buttery smooth.

"Hey you know what?" Olivia said eagerly, she produced a warm, friendly grin at Alicia, "Why don't you come in?" The friendly girl tilted her head towards the house, "we can eat the cookies together. And you can tell me about this city more."

"I don't know…"

"Come on," Olivia pleaded kindly, "please?" She began to clutch the plate tightly, "I really don't know anyone else, and it would be nice to talk to someone who's been living here for a while."

A twinge of guilt coursed through Alicia's body, her original plan was only to give the cookies and view Claire's old house from the outside, but to enter her old friend's room? That wasn't in the plan at all. It was too late to back out now; Olivia was already heading towards the door—well, more like happily bouncing to the door—the blonde swivelled around smiling at Alicia to come.

Hesitantly, the Latina eventually made her way in. Once she stepped in, her nose was immediately filled with lavender, the signature smell of the Lyons's.

Alicia felt her heart heaved a tiny bit, entering Claire's old house without her being here, wasn't _right. _Her eyes flickered glumly; Alicia wondered how the Lyon's felt when they packed town. Did they feel guilty for leaving their only daughter behind? Did they regret leaving town? Though, truthfully, she probably believed that the Lyon's moved town because they couldn't bear the pain of losing Claire. It was probably the same feeling that Alicia felt _every day_.

As obedient as she was, she stopped at the door, pausing, waiting for Olivia to bark out the instructions of where her room was, even though Alicia had memorized the route of Claire's room so much, she could reach there with her eyes closed.

"This way," Olivia led the two of them, dashing fast, up the wooden steps and then swiftly turning right. She gripped the golden-coloured brass doorknob, flinging it opened widely. The blonde took a deep breath upon entering and plopped herself on her bed, which was placed where Claire's large wardrobe was before.

Blinking rapidly, Alicia studied the room she was once familiar with, in great detail. It was the same, yet it wasn't. Where Olivia had placed her bed, was where Claire's spacious desk was. The tiny turquoise floral decal wallpaper Claire had bought was now covered by the various posters of models, actors, and musicians Olivia liked. Despite the different furniture arrangement and the diverse decorations Olivia was displaying, somehow the room felt the same as before. It sounded crazy, but to Alicia, she felt that Claire was still here, that her presence was in the room with the two of them.

"So," Olivia said, she placed the plate of cookies on the bed and snatched two of them into her hands, wolfing them down. "What's Westchester like? My parents have been telling me and my brother that we are really lucky to be here."

"Uh, I guess the city is really into glamour." Alicia replied, sounding unsure herself. She perched herself beside Olivia as the friendly girl had been motioning her too. "I mean, if you look around you, everybody here looks and acts perfect."

"Like you?" Olivia teased.

Stunned, Alicia sat there, with nothing coming out of her mouth. In response, she weakly shook her head, 'no'. She was far from being perfect, the only truly perfect person she knew, was _Claire._

"That's hard to believe, I mean, the people in here acting perfect." The blonde resumed, "Nobody is perfect, and if everyone was there wouldn't be a functional society." Olivia paused thoughtfully, "I believe people aren't perfect because then they wouldn't have something to hide about themselves, you know? Like a secret. And everyone has secrets." Pushing the plate away to give them space, Olivia grinned at Alicia funnily, while inching closer, "Sorry, I kind of went off topic. But you totally fit the glamour part. You're really pretty."

A colour of pink appeared across Alicia's face, "_Me?_"

"Yeah, you," Olivia giggled cutely, "You are. You're probably the prettiest girl I ever seen." More giggles erupted from her, "If my boyfriend back home was hearing me right now, he'll probably be egging me on to say more. He's such a perv, but I still love him." She widened her eyes, continuing, "His name is Jake, I met him during a surf practice."

"Oh, that's neat." The raven-haired girl answered softly. She crossed her legs, "My boyfriend, Connor, we started going out recently." Alicia began to kick her heels back and forth against the bed.

"Cool." Her navy blue eyes started to gleam with sudden interest. "What's he like?"

"Connor is…" Alicia trailed off, trying to find the right words to describe her of five months. She and Connor Foley had met in the community centre where they both had taken dance classes. While she took jazz, contemporary, tap and modern, Connor took crump and hip hop. They met by bumping into each other from time to time, and eventually became friends. Soon, their mutual friends and groups of friends started encouraging the two of them to go out, which they did.

"He's great." She finally stated. The Latina stopped her kicking, and glanced upward, slightly. When she thought about it, Connor was _great_, for a first time boyfriend. He was patient and never pressured her into anything she didn't want to do.

"So how did the two of you meet?" Olivia asked, her beautiful face was glowing with keen interest as she listened on.

"We both had dance classes in the same community center."

In a matter of seconds, the eager blonde's eyes grew enormous, "No way!" She squealed in delight, "Don't tell me you're a BADASS, too?"

Alicia leaned backwards, taken a back in shock. She fiddled with the bottom buttons of her blazer, and gazed into Olivia's eyes, focused. "Excuse me?"

"I'm taking dance classes in Westchester's Central Community Center, too." Olivia grinned from ear to ear, "and I just got invited into a dance squad called BADASS by the dance teacher." She crinkled her nose a tiny bit, "I think her name is Sondra."

"Ohhh," the realization swept through Alicia's mind, she got it. "I think you mean, BADSS, the Body Alive Dance Studio Squad." The black-haired girl bit her naturally red lips, containing her sudden rush of excitement, which somewhat surprised her, "that's great. I guess we'll be seeing other a lot." Moving back some more, she stopped until her back was right against the wall, Alicia gave her own small, smile, "You're going to Westchester Day High, right?"

"Yeah, starting tomorrow I'll be in the eleventh grade. "

"Same here,"

She watched the other girl play with her sleek butterscotch blonde beachy curls rather coyly with her left hand, the new girl reached over and squeezed Alicia's arm, softly, with her right. "Hopefully, we'll be in all the same classes." Olivia sweetly purred; she fluttered her long, blonde eyelashes innocently towards Alicia. Her hands were still around the Latina's. "Hey, I know we just met and all, but do you want to stay for dinner? My mom is making her famous pot roast, tonight."

"Uh, I can't." Alicia responded, exhaling shallowly. "My mom already made dinner plans."

Olivia's face dropped, quite noticeably. "Oh, okay," the blonde was unable to hide her disappointment well, her hands fell away from Alicia's arm. "I guess I'll see you at school, tomorrow."

Shoving herself off Olivia's bed, the Spanish girl stood up, straight. She reached down to grab her duffel bag from the ground, pulling it onto her shoulder. Alicia swirled her entire body around, giving Olivia a hopeful smile, "We can still hang out," she started to adjust her bag strap, offering "I mean, I can show you around the neighbourhood, if you want."

"Sure!" Olivia said, a grin reappeared as her face lit up, brightening, instantly, at hearing the friendly offer. She raised her palm up, waving a good-bye. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Nodding her head as an answer, Alicia gave her own little wave good-bye before striding out Claire's—er, _Olivia's_ room. She strolled right out of the front door after descending from the wooden stairs. Clicking the button to unlock her car, Alicia was about to settle down, until she swivelled her head to the left, glancing at the huge pile of items.

Walking towards the pile once again, she studied it, not knowing what to do. Pursing her lips, in uncertainty, she shrugged her shoulders, rolling it back, when she finally concluded to an answer. Alicia hovered over the cardboard boxes, grabbing what she wanted. Her arms were soon filled with Claire's dark oak jewellery box, the small box containing the ballerina brooch, a few of Claire's ratty notebooks, a couple of books, articles of clothing that once belonged to her before trading them to Claire and a stack of the pale-blonde's assignment papers, stuffing them hurriedly in a messy heap into her Volvo's adequate trunk.

Alicia opened the car's front door, and sat down. For one last time, her attention was all focused onto the pile of items. Maybe she would take some more of Claire's things if she passed by, just for mementos, to remember the pale-blonde; she wasn't ready to accept her old friend's fate quite yet. Besides, it was a good excuse to visit Olivia if she felt like it

And anyways, like the sign said, the items were _free_, after all.

**[...]**

The instant the pine wood smell hit her nose, Massie breathed deeply, inhaling and then exhaling, savouring the freshness of the wilderness. It was one of the things she missed dearly when she was in England, that and the smell of fresh, cut grass. It was a weird thing to like or even miss about, but then again, she was always known to be the poster girl for Westchester's weirdest resident.

As weird as she was, the brunette sometimes loved it and dreaded it. What she loved about being weird, quirky and kooky, was that she was an individual; she was also an original, different from the others and besides, her parents had always advised her to be herself. In a single day of her life, she never felled for or followed the latest trends of fashion sense whenever the top style magazine published a new article. She just wasn't going to give into society, and well, Massie already had her own sense of style, a mixture of a dark, edgy vintage-bohemian style, and she liked it, and it would stay that way. Although, what she dreaded about being kooky, was that people stayed away from her. As if they were almost afraid of her, their minds deciding that she was unstable and unpredictable, like she would go crazy in any minute.

She knew that her reputation wasn't well-perceived especially with the guys in Westchester. The amber-eyed girl recalled how some of them would check her out from faraway, but the second she approached them closely, they would either turn away or pretend to be busy. Guys in this city never got her, never understood her. The times she did tried to fit in, either by carrying and totting the newest coach purses or whether it was eating healthy foods daily or flipping her hair coquettishly each time a boy passed by, it still wasn't enough to convince them.

It was irritating, really, people always complimented on her unique look, and still, being the shortest and tiniest girl in her group of friends and in the majority of her classes (she was 5'2") the brunette knew her height wasn't a factor. And at rare times, some brave guys would come up and they would comment on how pretty she was, what with her long, flowing dark chocolate brown big, loose curls and her doe-like amber eyes —though, the girl knew herself, that she wasn't the level of pretty as Alicia—so if she was pretty, why couldn't she go on one lousy date with one guy in Westchester? And why couldn't the guys couldn't get over the fact that being quirky was part of her personality?

Luckily for her, after immediately moving to England, Massie met James Wright, a boy that was on the same flight as her and attended the same school, KISS. He understood her right away, as they bonded and clicked quickly. The British boy was her first boyfriend, the brunette loved how he was so accepting of her eccentric qualities and quirks, it was too bad that William decided to move back, the only thing she truly missed about England was James and despite breaking up with him,—they both agreed that the long distance relationship wouldn't work for them—Massie would always have a place for him in her heart.

With the pinewood smell lingering, the girl gazed at the surroundings as she drove. The luscious, tall, fat, green trees she spotted, as she headed to the bar, overwhelmed her a bit. Sure, the scenery in England was nice, in fact when thought about it thoroughly, it was downright beautiful. But, something about the open, clear view and the enamouring forestry in Westchester, somehow always made her feel welcome.

Maybe that was because in a certain wooded area in the city was the last place Claire Lyons set foot, and seen alive. No matter how much time passed, the blonde's death would always be linked with Massie, bounding her to this city and the mass forest area.

Sighing audibly, the glossy brunette was about to head straight, until something caught her eye, something that made her perked with interest. It was the road that was on the left side, which lead to the gigantic soccer field that was the one thing connecting OCD, her old middle school, to Briarwood, the brother school of it. She smiled to herself, recalling and recounting the fond memories she had that took place three years ago, of watching the soccer games that both Claire and Kristen played in and whenever she played on the field for fun.

What the hell, she thought; the girl jerked the steering wheel to the left, changing the direction of her original location. Turning left once again, she entered the large parking lot. The lot was almost clear, except for a few cars parked on the right side. Massie pulled up to the space that had best view of the soccer field, right in the front.

Leaning her chin against the top of the leather steering wheel, she scouted the enormous field. What she saw were a bunch of soccer players, some were loitering around, while others were chasing after black-and-white checkered ball. Her eyes suddenly widened in surprise when she witnessed a soccer player trip over his shoes.

Giggling uncontrollably of what she just witnessed, Massie grinned, shaking her head. Seeing someone fall like that, reminded her of a time when the same, exact thing happened to her on a warm afternoon in the seventh-grade. The memory was seared into her brain so well, because of what happened after she fell. Cam Fisher happened. The black-haired boy with intriguing mismatched eyes she had a major crush on back in those days.

It was on a hot, sunny afternoon in the seventh-grade around mid-September, all three of Massie, Alicia and Dylan had decided to join the soccer team to spend more time with both blondes, since the two of them had missed many lunch gatherings due to frequent practices.

"What are you guys doing here?" Claire asked in a mixture of suspicious and bitchy tone, she eyed Massie, Alicia and Dylan up and down. "Shouldn't you three be at lunch?" The blonde quickly twisted her entire body to face Dylan, "I'm impressed by you," Her pale-blonde eyebrows were arched in an angle, her dainty pink lips painted an annoying and cocky smirk, "I didn't think you had it in you, Dyl. You know, skipping lunch." The wicked girl accidentally spat out a tiny spit of bubble, from laughing, which coincidentally landed on the red head's chubby cheeks, "But I guess that's what you do when you clean yourself with a toothbrush."

Massie and Alicia barked out loud laughs, not noticing the deep burning shade of red all over Dylan's face and shrunken posture. Claire joined in the laughter, when stopping midway; the mean girl whacked her embarrassed friend, on the arm, "Aw, lighten up _Dylly_, I was kidding around," the blonde cooed, her evil smirk never leaving her face. "I know how much you hate eating after brushing your teeth clean. After all, those gunks always made your breath stink."

The red head began shrinking even more, her mouth was opened, about to speak, but only to be cut off by an oblivious Massie.

"That's beside the point, Claire." Massie grinned, waving the blonde off, changing the topic abruptly. She twirled around in a girly Massie-like circle, "Aren't you glad that we joined the team with you and Kris?"

"Why would you though?" Claire made a face, "You guys _hate_ soccer."

The brunette clapped her hands together, excitedly, "To spend more time with you and Kris, _duh_." She pushed her rosy-coloured glossed lips outward, playfully pouting, "We hardly see you guys anymore, so we thought joining the team, was a great idea."

"Yeah," Alicia piped up quickly, before the unimpressed girl could speak, she was smiling widely at Claire, her arms wrapped around the blonde's shoulder almost completing a friendly hug, "We miss you!"

A devilish expression crept on Claire's face, sniggering as Alicia's arm was stayed put. "I know _you_ would, _Lez,_—I mean, _Leesh_." She smiled innocently as she saw the Latina's face filled with fear, "Besides," the girl stepped away from Alicia and looked at Massie, confused, "What is up with your uniforms? Did you guys buy it at _Slut-mart_ or something?"

The pale-blonde was referring to the soccer uniform both Dylan and Massie were wearing. Instead of the traditional rugged, loose jersey, a tight v-neck was replaced and a mini-skirt was sported as an alternative for shorts. It was total change from the usual Sirens uniform, more daring, girly and sexy.

"What?" The amber-eyed girl appeared offended. Massie stopped twirling, and made a face directly at Claire. "With Dylan's fashion ideas and me, drawing a sketch to put our vision in an overview, we created it." She crossed her arms, defensively, "What's wrong with it?"

"Well," Claire snipped, "Other than looking like a huge slut and a weird freak," There was a pregnant pause before the blonde opened her mouth to speak again, spilling nasty contents out, "the colours don't even match our uniforms. And the styles clash, and truth be told," A gleam shone in her doll-like sapphire eyes, "the uniforms you guys made are _ugly_."

Curling her tiny fists in rising anger, the brunette bit down of her lip to maintain her emotion from leaking out. "You don't what you're talking about, Claire."

"And you don't have any fashion sense, Massie." Claire sing-song, she tilted her head towards her, daring an angry Massie to challenge her authority and bold statement. "The way you dress, well, let's just say you're damn lucky I picked you up, otherwise you would be a loner like before."

"I—"

"Save it," Claire hissed at the girl the moment she got in Massie's face, close enough for only them to here, "Don't you dare talk back to me, unless you want to be alone forever." Her arms were crossed, concealing her fists, "Remember, I made you, I made who you are. And I can easily _erase_ you." She swiftly whirled her back around away from her friends and jogged to the yelling soccer coach.

After watching her friend run off across the field, Alicia turned and smiled weakly at the brunette, unaware of the threat that had been said, "She probably doesn't mean what she said about your uniform, Mass." The Latina shrugged sheepishly, and raced off to catch up to Claire.

"Yeah, Claire doesn't mean it that way," Dylan said softly, defending their outspoken Alpha, though she looked unsure herself as she picked at her dull, brittle nails. She too, started to chase after the pale-blonde, dawdling across the enormous field.

Left alone, Massie grumbled to herself. A part of her considered joining her friends, but she decided against it, since she really wasn't in the mood to talk to Claire after that. Swirling in the entirely opposite direction, she jogged as best as she could so her skirt wouldn't fly up, so what if she had a different fashion style? Was being too different always going to force her to be alone?

With her thoughts racing, serving as a distraction, the brunette didn't pay attention where she was going, and ended up tripping on her own shoes.

She groaned. Her stomach started tingling with sore pain. Pushing herself up, she quickly glanced down at her outfit. It was ruined, mud had splattered all over.

"Whoa, are you all right?"

Her head shot up to see where the voice was coming from. And when she saw two different coloured eyes gazing at her, the girl blushed madly.

It was none other than Cam Fisher. The boy she had a crush on, way back when she met him during a clothing charity drive way back in January.

"I'm okay," She reassured him. Standing up, she brushed off the dirt of her clothes the best she could.

Cam stared at her, interested, "Hey," He pointed at her outfit, "I didn't know you're in the soccer team." He made a face, almost as if he was figuring out what the right things to say, his coloured eyes narrowed at her. "It's Massie, right? You were at the clothing drive, I think."

"Yeah, that was me."

"I'm Cam Fisher." He said, introducing himself, thrusting his hand in front of her.

"Oh, I know that!" Massie replied excitedly. She grabbed his hand, shaking on it.

The boy started chuckling, after a beat he stopped, instead giving her a questioning stare. "I didn't think you were into soccer, you don't seem like the type."

"Truthfully," She lowered her hand down and shot him a small smile, "I'm not. I only joined because I wanted to spend more time with two of my best friends Claire and Kristen."

Suddenly, Cam's face illuminated. He took a step closer to Massie; a huge grin appeared on his adorable face, "Claire? As in Claire Lyons?"

The brunette bobbed her head up and down, slowly. "Yeah, she's one of my best friends."

"Cool." He tapped her on the arm, "Hey, can you get me her—"

"_Massie_," a voice growled from behind.

The two spun around, seeing Claire. Her face was darkened, her arms crossed.

"Massie," the blonde repeated, she extended her arms, grabbing the brunette's. "We have to go, the game is about to start." The girl explained rudely, she began tugging faster, pulling Massie away from Cam.

"Right now?" She gazed at Claire, and whipped her head back to face Cam, he wasn't looking. Her heart plummeted; this was the perfect opportunity to talk to him, now she couldn't. She looked back once more, and felt her heart rise, when Cam finally glanced up, mouthing to her.

_Nice uniform._

Wrinkling her nose in utter confusion, the brunette wandered why Claire was so anxious to get back to soccer and away from Cam. From what she could see, no one was positioned, yet. In fact, the coach was yelling at players, who were coming in now, nothing was going on, no activity whatsoever.

"Stay away from him," Claire warned, like she was reading her mind. "Just stay away, he's dangerous."

Massie opened to her mouth, only to be cut off by Claire.

"Don't ask questions," the blonde barked meanly. "Questions are always complicated, answers are simple. And sometimes simplicity _ruins_ everything." She tightened her grip, "Don't _ever _associate with Cam Fisher, Mass."

In return, all the brunette did was bit on her rosy coloured lip, and nodded, listening to her friend. The two went back to the group, and follow the orders of the coach. It was the first and last time Massie had a conversation with Claire on the field, since she, Dylan and Alicia, were begged to quit the team by the coach the next day, seeing as, well, none of them actually knew how to play the game.

Two years had passed, and Massie still didn't understand why Claire would say such a thing about Cam. It didn't make any sense. It was hypocritical, because in less than a month, the blonde started dating Cam.

She exhaled loudly, turning away from the soccer field; she didn't feel like watching anymore. Just as she was about to turn her key, to start to the ignition, a loud voice distracted her.

"Hey! Watch out!"

_Thud._

Rolling down her car window, the girl stuck her head out to see what made the commotion. A soccer ball had hit her tires. She stepped out of her car for a moment, only to see a guy around her age, running towards her.

"Hey," the guy panted. "Sorry about that, my aim was off." He bent down, reaching for the ball. With the ball tucked under his arm, the guy looked at her, strangely.

Oh my god.

The guy in front of her was none other than Joshua Hotz, the golden boy of Briarwood and presumably the golden boy of Westchester Day. He looked exactly the same, she last saw him. She never understood why the majority of the girls—and some guys—fawned over Josh's looks, yes, Massie did agree that he was hot, his olive skin, red natural lips, golden-colored eyes and short, tousled black hair was to die for, but he just wasn't her type.

"Didn't you go the Iceland?" Josh asked. He tilted his head, quizzically, "You're Massie Block, right? You were Claire Lyon's friend."

"Uh," Massie hesitated, "No, I went to England." She played with her charm bracelet, completely ignoring the Claire comment.

Someone across the field blew a loud whistle, "Hotz, get your ass back here!"

Josh smiled at her, "I got to go back," He waved, "I'll see you around, _England_." The boy grinned at her, before entirely heading back.

Astonished, Massie settled back into her Subaru. As she started the car, and drove down the road, heading back to the direction of the bar, she couldn't believe what had just happened. For the first time, a guy in Westchester had actually approached her without being scared or freaked out.

There was always a first time for everything.

She gripped the wheel, while heading down the road. The bar wasn't far; in fact she could spot the building from where she was. It was on the central street of the city, and close to the business and art school were William once taught.

Turning slightly to the right, she finally arrived at Hollis, the local bar. Massie got out of her car, and pushed the old, dusty door out of her way, entering. The smell of the bar was horrid; it smelt like the combination of wet dog, sweat and cigarettes. The place was dark and musky, the stairs creaked as did the bar stools. Right now, she would have given anything to be back in England, back there, the pubs smelled like fresh brewery, and cedar.

She hopped onto the bar stool closest to her and waved at the bartender. "Busch," she informed the bartender, who was gazing at her weirdly. Nevertheless, the bartender placed a shot glass in front of her and moved on. Quickly, the brunette took a light sip, only to spit the alcohol back.

"Are you okay?"

Massie wheeled her head around. Two seats away from her, was a tall guy with shaggy, blonde hair and dark brown puppy dog eyes. He was grinning at her.

She waved him off, "Yup, I just wanted to explore the city again since I had been in England for the past two years."

"England?" the guy beamed at her, making him look cute as ever. "Cool. I've always wanted to go there when I was a kid." Cute guy grabbed his glass, heading down towards her. He plopped on the stool next to her.

Curious, Massie peered into his glass, "what are you having?"

"Whisky. Want to try?"

She nodded, and waved to the bartender who set one down for her. She took a sip, it tasted bland, but she forced herself to gulp it down.

"So, why were you in England? School?"

Placing the glass down, she glanced at him, thinking what to say. "Yeah," Massie said quickly, not caring she had lied to him. Her mother always did say, when something or someone was too good to be true, lying was an option. Besides, it was finally nice to have someone not know about her abnormal past in Westchester.

"What about you?" She asked. "Are you in school?"

Cute guy displayed a proud grin, "I just graduated. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to teach."

"That's nice." Massie clutched the handle of her glass. "I've always wanted to teach something, when I was younger." She blinked at him, "maybe when I'm done school."

"Really?" He watched her take another sip, "What are you planning to go in?"

The brunette quirked her eyebrows, having no idea what to say, "Uh...I love learning about literature, so probably English."

"No way!" Cute guy whistled. "That's what I'm teaching." He was flinging his hands, and accidently knocked his glass over, the liquid spilling all over the wooden counter. "Sorry about that," he responded lamely, he placed his hand on her arm, "I hope I didn't get anything on you."

She jumped, surprised. Massie felt dizzy when he placed his hand on her arm. Though she believed it was probably the effect of the alcohol, probably.

"Anyways," He grinned, "I'm Derrick."

"Massie," She grinned back. She patted her pants, realizing that the drink did get on her. Frowning, the girl didn't want to leave her seat, just in case Derrick decided to leave the bar. Then again, her pants were vintage, and it was hard to find. She cocked her head, wandering if he had a girlfriend already.

"I have to go to the washroom," She stood up, grabbing her purse.

Derrick smirked at her, standing up as well. "Can I come with you? I did ruin your clothes."

She stared back, smiling, loving that she knew he didn't have a girlfriend. "Sure," she said, tipsy.

The moment they entered the women's washroom, there was an awful smell. Though it didn't really matter, since all she was focusing on was Derrick kissing her as he pressed her against the wall.

There was _so_ going to be a spot on her pants, but even with her vintage pants were ruined, they really weren't that important as she originally thought.

**[...]**

After hours of endless shopping, Kristen had finally settled on a black collared lace dress, matching it with her sophisticated black blazer and finally finishing her outfit with a red bow belt and black heels. It was perfect, the outfit not only showed class, elegance, sophistication, but it also showed off her sexiness as well.

"Kristen, sweetie," Marsha Gregory peeked at her daughter, "remember you're not suppose to pick at your oyster with your hands," The older woman dabbed her lips, gingerly, with the white cloth, "Use a fork, we don't want people to view us as savages."

Kristen made a face, muttering an apology under her breath. She swiped the small fork, and began picking at the shellfish appetizer. The Gregory's were dining at the fancy seafood restaurant The Boathouse, waiting for Ali Gregory to show up. All three had to dress up nicely, as the dinner was for Ali, a celebration, as the girl graduated a year early then her peers from NYU. Knowing Ali, Kristen knew that her older cousin got into the prestigious business school, the Booth School of Business in Chicago. That was probably the big news her older cousins was _dying_ to tell Marsha and Ted, to 'surprise' them. Really, there wasn't any point, since both her parents already knew, but Ali always had to brag about her accomplishments _daily_. And Kristen knew how much her cousin loved boasting about her achievements in front of her and her parents, to make her look bad.

"I really hope Ali considers staying here for awhile." Marsha murmured to Ted, completely ignoring her daughter's apology. "She has a year off, and I don't know if I'm ready to let her go, and stay all the way in Chicago."

The blonde rolled her eyes, "She's a big girl, and besides," Kristen sounded annoyed, "You guys already bought her a flat in Chicago, so it would be wasted if she stayed." Unknown to her parents, the blonde curled her fists under the table. Both her parents insisted to Ali they would buy her the nicest and biggest flat they could afford, which they did. It wasn't fair; it always seemed they bought nicer things for her cousin. She was their biological daughter, so why did it feel like her parents always favoured Ali over her?

While her parents were sad that Ali was leaving the state, Kristen was _ecstatic_. No more did she need to compete with her cousin over anything, especially over her parents love. Now, finally, she could be the sole one Ted and Marsha could focus on. Maybe this would wake them up, forcing them to think how they treated Kristen compared to Ali. And, with Ali leaving, the blonde benefited by gaining her cousin's huge barn as her room for the rest of the school year.

The barn had its own private washroom, a mini kitchen and an enormous walk-in closet. It was the perfect place, where Kristen could escape her nagging parents and hang out alone in peace. It took years of convincing and hard work, but it finally paid off.

"Still," her mother rambled on, "I just don't like her far away from us. What happens if she gets into trouble?"

"Mom," Kristen sniped, "She's twenty-one." She put the fork down gently as she could, in order to not cause a scene that would somehow diminish the Gregory's prestigious name. "The most trouble she'll be in is when she accidentally cuts herself with a butter knife."

The older blonde, looked down at the table, considering what had been said. Though, she still appeared on the edge, "I don't know, perhaps if we casually suggest to her about staying, she'll agree."

Ted Gregory who had been silent through the conversation, up until now, reached over and squeezed his worried wife's hand. "Marsha, I think you're thinking about this a little too hard." He coughed, clearing his throat, "Like Kristen said, she's grown up and we should respect her decisions. If Ali wants to move to Chicago right away, fine. But, if she wants stay here for awhile, then it's also fine." He rolled his head to the side, "We shouldn't sit here and mope. This is Ali's big day, we should be happy and celebrating that Ali got into the best school for business."

"I suppose you're right, dear." Marsha hummed. She started to adjust her diamond necklace, "Speaking of Ali, what is the name of the friend she's bringing for dinner?" The woman began to take light sips from her wine, "All I know is that he's studying to become a doctor."

Holding back an eye roll, Kristen leaned forward, addressing to her curious mother, "His name is Griffin." In her mind, she made a face. What kind of name was Griffin? She could imagined what he already looked like, probably a weakling, who wore clothing that were two-decades out of style, and glasses that slipped down his bird-like nose. The blonde groaned inside, when hearing hear mother rave about the guy they were about to meet. Of course, the first thing her parents would know about the stranger was his job, and not his name. If someone was holding a high-level status job, her parents jumped on the bandwagon and would automatically love and appreciate them.

She sighed, sometimes the blonde thought that being poor was better than being rich. At least then, her parents wouldn't be so focused on flaunting off their status to everyone in the world. Being poor had its downside, but Kristen felt ever since becoming rich, the wealth made her parents more distant and colder than before.

"I wonder what field this Griffin boy will be going in." Her father pondered aloud. "Maybe he'll go in neurology?"

"He could be studying to become a cardiologist." Her mother jumped in, talking in a smug, superior voice.

Whatever, Kristen thought to herself. She sat back, tuning out her excited parents, who were still discussing the possible fields that Griffin would be going into. Sure, her cousins' newest boyfriend was going to be successful in the near future, but he probably looked like a wimp, and could get easily beat-up in the hospital if the guy made a major error. The girl smirked as she swiped her wineglass—which was filled with sparkling apple cider, not white wine—bringing it to her lips. She took a big gulp, at the same time stifling a giggle.

Each time Ali brought her boyfriend home, they almost all had the same appearances. They were always short, book smart, wore glasses and loved discussing about philosophy and playing croquet. The only exception from the crop was Harris Fisher, who was the total opposite. Just thinking about Harris, made Kristen's heart race a little faster. He was gorgeous, but despite that, she knew her heart didn't race just for his looks; it was also because she and Harris fooled around, while he was still Ali's boyfriend.

Quickly, she took another gulp of her drink, and closed her eyes. Still, two years had passed, and her older cousin was still clueless about the incident, only one person knew about the incident, besides herself and Harris and it was her old best friend, Claire Lyons.

"Wow, Kris," Claire said, she dug in the frozen yogurt that was delivered to the Gregory's house, which Kristen had paid for. "These fro-yo's are delish." She scooped up some more, "too bad the others were busy."

Kristen nodded in agreement. She leaned against her kitchen's counter top, gobbling the watermelon fro-yo she ordered. "After this, want to watch a movie?"

"You know it."

The two blondes were hanging out in Kristen's house as the Lyon's were having guests over—actually, the guests were Claire's older brother Todd Lyons, pig friends—so when Claire had knocked on Kristen's front door, the aqua-eyed girl was more than eager to let her friend in. Usually, from their tight group of friends, the two of them hung out the most, since they were neighbours, as they did live next door from each other. They had their own little sleepovers, which usually took place on a Saturday or whatever day that worked for them.

Only this time, Kristen had invited the rest of them, except the other three had backed down, stated their own reasons of being busy. Massie was preparing to go on a road trip with her parents—something about Mr. Block scouting for a new place to work, Alicia politely declined, the Latina wanted to put in more hours of dance training before the upcoming recital that was happening next week and Dylan, well, for Dylan, Kristen couldn't really understand what the red head was saying over the phone, from what she got from Dylan's gibberish, was that it involved Merri-Lee Marvil's— the famous talk show host—newest segment, something on the lines of that.

"So," Claire smirked, her hands against her cheeks, she bent her back in an angle, "What's up with Dylan's lame excuse not to come?"

Shrugging awkwardly, Kristen stood up straight. "I have no idea. From what I got, it involved taping a segment for her mother's newest episode."

The sound of laughter came out of Claire's mouth. "Poor thing," she cooed, "I feel really bad for Dylan, she is super delusional."

"What's that suppose to mean?"

She watched Claire throw her pale-blonde hair around, "Are you serious Kris?" the sapphire-coloured eyed girl pursed her lips, puckering it; "You don't need to be so nice. She's not here, to hear anything. Be honest, for _once_."

Calmly, the dark blonde placed her frozen yogurt container on the counter, even though in the inside she was already shaking. "Claire," Kristen crossed her arms, "What are you trying to say?"

"All I'm _saying_ is that I want you to be honest with yourself." Claire smiled, deviously. "And be honest with the people around you."

Tightening her arms, she inched forward to Claire, to show the girl she wasn't going to back down easily. "I'm always honest, whether it's with you, with Dylan, Massie and Alicia or anybody." Kristen exhaled loudly, "Why do you even care?"

"_Kris_," the other blonde simpered, "if you can't even be honest with yourself or with your friends, how can we trust you?" Claire threw down her yogurt container on the counter; she sauntered to Kristen, facing her. "Bonds will be broken if you can't tell the truth. And sharing secrets are the best way to make friends become closer." There was a playful smile on her beautiful face, "Besides, I bet you still didn't tell Ali what really happened between you and Har—"

The patio door slid open, interrupting the conversation. And in came Ali and Harris walking in like they own the place.

"Don't mind us, girls," Ali said in her usual snobby voice, "We're just here to grab some drinks," She giggled as her arms were hooked with Harris's; they looked like a couple on their honeymoon.

"Why are you getting drinks out of the fridge?" Kristen asked, turning her attention away from Claire and onto her cousin. "The last time I peeked into the barn's fridge, it was already refilled."

Ali glanced at her little cousin with a smidge of disdain; her cobalt blue eyes flickered onto Claire for a quick second and then back to Kristen. "I don't know," She shrugged her shoulders; "Someone keeps opening and drinking all our beer and alcohol." Her hands started to grip Harris's, yanking on him to plod forward, to get out of the house and go back to the private barn.

Just as the two were about to head out to the patio door, Claire turned away from Kristen, and locked eyes onto Ali. "Kristen," she said in a loud voice, "maybe you should tell your cousin what _really_ happened."

"Tell me what?" Ali asked, stopping her tracks, her eyebrows went up instantly.

Nearly gasping aloud, Kristen clutched for Claire's arm, leaning forward, for her friend to hear only, "What the hell are you doing?" She hissed, scared.

Whirling her head around slightly, Claire's gave the dirty-blonde her signature, sweet smile. "I _knew _it. You didn't tell Ali about the Harris incident."

"Why bring this up now?"

"So you can tell her about it. You can't hide from this forever, Kristen. Sooner or later she's going to find out herself."

The dark blonde stood there motionless, her mouth, hanging. Finally, as she gained her composure back, she dug her nails, gripping into Claire's skin, "Ali won't find out."

"How can you be so sure, Kris?" Claire snapped, she swivelled her body in front of Kristen, their faces so close to one another, they could feel each other's breathing, "She will find out, I assure you."

"No she _won't_."

"She will." The pale-blonde continued arguing, her sapphire orbs started to shine, "Because if you don't tell her what really went on between you and Harris, I _will_."

Kristen felt her mouth drop, "Why are you doing this? This doesn't involve you."

"It does." Claire folded her arms together, "all I'm trying to do is help you in more than one way."

"Cla—"

"—what did you want to tell me, Kristen?" Ali's voice broke through, she appeared confused.

Shakily, Kristen faced Ali, her face began to flush pink, forgetting the fact her cousin was still standing there with Harris, both of whom, were looking on with great curiosity. "I-I was the one who drank all your beers." The girl stuttered, she threw her hands up to seem believable, "s-sorry."

"Oh," her cousin, frowned, not buying it, "well, make sure you refill it next time," Ali responded in her irritating, high-pitch, perky, voice. "Let's go Harris."

The older boy nodded, and waved to Kristen and Claire, "Bye girls, have a great time."

Their sounds of footsteps faded, as they left the kitchen. When she felt it was the only two of them, Kristen shot the mean blonde a nasty glare. "Why are you doing this? How the hell is this helping me?"

Stepping away from an angry Kristen, Claire reached for her hair, combing it thoroughly, unfazed by her friend's attitude. "I _am_ helping you. You'll never tell her Kris, you know it and I know it." This time, she began twirling a single strand, "secrets can be kept for so long, and when its leak, the damage is impossible to fix." The pale-blonde hands dropped from her hair, a sudden wicked expression lit up on her face, "You know what?" she taunted, "I'm telling Ali everything right now." Claire spun around hastily, away from Kristen, about to approach the patio door that led to the barn.

"Claire!" Kristen grunted, she was too quick for the blonde to escape; she pulled on Claire's arm, tugging on it until the pale-blonde's was facing her. The dirty blonde took a step forward, hovering over Claire; she began to talk in a low, serious voice, "If you tell Ali about the Harris incident, I'll inform everyone about The Ripple Thing," she paused, forcing herself to gaze directly into Claire's sapphire eyes, "the _truth_."

Claire stared at Kristen for a beat, they both knew that Kristen would take the threat seriously, finally the wicked girl blinked. "Fine," she brushed the dark blonde's arm off her own, and pushed away. "Don't bother starting a movie, I'm going home."

"I don't need you here, anyways," Kristen snipped, for the first time that day, she breathed in relief, when hearing Claire slam the front door, leaving.

The Ripple Thing.

Thinking about that, made Kristen's head hurt. The incident alone, symbolized the cruelness of Claire. She never understood why, she and the others allowed Claire do awful things and get away with it. Looking back, the five of them were so mean and vicious to anyone they thought who was lower than them. What was worse was that their group of friends would make fun of someone so personally, it wasn't right.

Kristen hated remembering anything that was associated with Claire. Though it was hard for her not to be reminded, her room faced the Lyon's house, even worse, was that Claire's old bedroom was straight across from her own.

The sound of champagne flutes clinking in a nearby table startled Kristen, enough for her to wake up and be back in the present. She scanned the dining room, surprised, that Ali and her new beau, Griffin hadn't arrived.

Swiping her glass off the table, yet again, she took another swig from her cider. That was when she heard the all too familiar voice.

"Aunt Marsha! Uncle Ted!" In came a giddy Ali, rushing in, making a bee-line for her parents, who got up from their seats, their arms open wide, ready to give Ali a warm, family hug. As her parents threw their arms around Ali, Kristen smirked; her cousin looked exactly the same since she was a senior in high school, except her dirty blonde hair was now dyed ash-blonde and was now up to her shoulders. What was odd though was that Ali's style became sloppy over the years, and tonight's outfit proved it. Her short blue polka dot dress was old-fashioned, and the black boots she paired it with was too chunky.

"Oh, Ali, sweetie," Marsha was beaming, "we missed you so much," her mother kissed her cousin's cheek numerous times.

Sneering over her cousin, Kristen took another gulp from her drink, waiting for the 'special guest' to arrive.

"Auntie, Uncle," Ali said happily, "I want you to meet someone," the excited girl was clutching onto a muscular arm, and gave the person a light, push forward. "This is Griffin," She smiled proudly, "my boyfriend."

Kristen nearly spat out her drink, her aqua eyes popped out.

In front of her was not a guy who wore glasses, or was short or looked like wimp or didn't even look like he liked to play croquet. In front of her was a very attractive guy, he had soft, short black hair, clear skin and the most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen, in the shade of grey.

Luckily she gulped down what she had in her mouth, and glanced over to Griffin, who made his way over to his seat, awkwardly, after greeting her parents. While her parents chatted with Ali, ignoring Griffin, Kristen slyly combed her hair, and smiled at Griffin, she stuck out her hand, "Hi, I'm Kristen Gregory, Ali's younger cousin."

He smiled at her, "Hey, I'm Griffin Hastings," He reached over, grabbing her hand.

"Hastings?" Kristen tilted her head, intrigued. "It sounds familiar."

Griffin leaned forward, "Yeah, my dad owns a couple of restaurants here. He's a business tycoon."

The blonde gasped, fascinated at what she just realized. "No way," She grinned, "don't tell me that you're the Hastings family that owns the Slice of Life?" Kristen giggled, "I always love the pizzas there, they taste so good."

"Thanks," He winked at her, "I used to work there, and from time to time, I'll go in and help make the pizzas." Griffin glanced at her, puzzled. "It's funny Ali never mentioned to me she had a younger cousin."

"She didn't?" Kristen asked innocently. Though, she rolled her eyes mentally, _typical _Ali. The blonde was about to ask Griffin about his studies, until Ali appeared behind him.

"Good, you two met." Ali tittered to the side. "So, Kris, how's school? Are you going to run for Vice-president for student council this year?"

"President," she said firmly, Kristen sat up straight, "what makes you think I'm running for VP?"

Ali shrugged, "Well, you seem more of a VP than a president." She widened her cobalt eyes, sweetly, "Don't get me wrong, Kris. It's just that there are more students in your grade that have more potential."

Griffin cut in, before Kristen could fire back. He turned to Kristen, and then gazed at Ali, "Don't say that. I think Kristen has a lot of potential." He smiled at the dark blonde, "I don't know why you didn't mention her a long time ago, Al." The guy drummed his fingers on the table, "I like her. Kristen is very..._interesting_."

Scowling, Ali went back to her seat, her arms crossed, refusing to continue the conversation as she went back conversing with Marsha and Ted.

"You don't need to lie," Kristen said, after watching Ali sit down, "we just met."

"I'm not." He raised an eyebrow, "I know we just met, but _you're_ interesting. I think we'll get along with each other very well."

Kristen looked on, stunned. It was then she noticed, Ali was shooting her a glare, hearing what Griffin had said, word for word. The dirty blonde, exhaled, relaxed. She grinned at her cousin's boyfriend, "I think we will _too_."

Her cousin began to shoot her more glares, not that Kristen blamed her. Because the last time someone said she would get along with them, was none other than Harris Fisher.

And, well, look how that turned _out_.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Lisi Harrison owns the Clique and Sara Shepard owns Pretty Little Liars.

Whoa, it's been like more than a month since I last updated this story, I hope you guys didn't think I was giving up on it!

Even though I dread it sometimes, I really do like writing long chapters, (which is why this story isn't updated regularly), but I had to include details for every section of the chapter, and I didn't expect to insert flashbacks this time, originally I was going for two, but then I added the Kristen/Claire flashback, since I thought it was necessary.

I think the characters that were introduced are easy to distinguish, maybe except for Cam, he's suppose to be modeled after the TV Noel, while Josh is book Noel. In this story, the younger characters such as Todd, Ripple etc. they're going to be older.


	5. And It Begins

_**"We all know she's dead, right?"**_

_**"Right, I just never heard anyone say it."**_

-Emily Fields and Aria Montgomery, in 'Pilot'

* * *

Monday mornings were the _worst_.

Every time she had to wake up early, the short brunette felt groggy, tired and defeated, yet, on this particular Monday, Massie was wide awake. The enormous crowd of students in front of her, gathering in a bunch, was a bit frightening. She squinted her doe-like amber eyes, scanning the crowd, taking everything in, in one moment.

She stood alone, outside Westchester Day High, quite awkwardly beside the old oak tree, meekly crunching a pile of decomposed, rotten orange leaves with her light brown lace up fur boots she bought from vacation in Iceland. Gazing one more time, her rosy-coloured lips turned into a frown, there was nobody she knew, and the people she did knew (by their names) the girl never really talked too. It was sad when she thought about it, here these were people she knew since middle school and even some from elementary, but she really never got to know any of them individually.

Maybe if Claire hadn't been so controlling, she could have ventured out and chatted with others, building relationships with new people. The pale-blonde insisted that the five of them, only needed each other and no one else and because of that, the girls never really got to chat with others. But thinking about it more carefully, Massie remembered the five of them _didn't_ even want to get to know other classmates and even if they tried, the bridges were already burned, seeing how as they would make fun of everyone they didn't like or believed to be lower than them personally.

Although, if it wasn't for Claire, Massie was pretty sure she wouldn't have any friends at all. Sighing in defeat, despite her controlling ways, the brunette knew if it wasn't for their Alpha, she would have been a loner and friendless throughout the sixth and seventh grade.

_Brrrinnnnnggg!_

As the school bell blasted, the crowd of students pushed through the heavy-set doors, stomping their way in. This was it; this would be her first appearance, since eighth grade, the brunette wondered if the people who did noticed her, thought she was the same person from way back or if she had changed drastically. Though, the pack of students would still be referring her to the girl with the dead best friend, after all, everyone knew what had happened to Claire, even before ninth grade started. Everyone knew Claire and Claire seemed to know everyone, besides if you didn't know who she was, well, you were considered a _freak._

Examining those who made their way in, from what Massie could see, it seemed that everyone was the same, typical person they were before. In Westchester, being the same, having the same clothing, liking the same interests was a great thing, but being different was a _bad _thing.

Steadying her breathes and with her head held up high, the brunette was about to stride in the building, until something on her boots caught her attention. Massie groaned. Mud had splattered all over her boots; there were tiny specs of noticeable dots all over. It only happened because William was in a rush and dropped her off at the forest that was nearby the school, and the forest ground was still damped from the showers on Saturday.

In actuality, it really wasn't William's fault; it was that _stupid_ golden boy, Josh Hotz's fault. Yesterday, when she was about to leave to go to the bar, the guy completely missed wherever he was originally aiming at, and instead, the ball had hit her back tire. At first, when she got home, her Subaru seemed fine, but in the morning she had discovered her back tire was damaged and had to be replaced. So, instead of driving herself to school, William stepped in and drove her, well, up until the small, wooden forest.

Exhaling loudly, she bent down to wipe of the mud the best she could and some of the leaves that got stuck on her boots, it was then she felt a light tap on her shoulder, breaking her thoughts and interrupting her cleaning.

"Massie?"

The short girl twisted around to see who it was. Standing behind her, was one of her old best friends, Alicia Rivera. Even with a second to glance up and down at the Latina, Massie could tell that her friend looked stunningly beautiful as ever, from her glossy, straight raven-coloured-hair to her enormous, bright, dark brown coloured eyes, and not to mention, her perfect height at 5'5" and curvy figure, everything about her looked effortless and perfect . _Bitch._

"Hey...Alicia,"

The Latina seemed skeptical for a second, like she couldn't believe her old friend was standing right in front of her, but then a beautiful smile appeared on her face. "When did you come back? How are you? How was England?"

"Yesterday," the brunette blinked rapidly, thinking for the answers of the rushed questions being asked, "I'm good. England was...great, um, a lot of culture." Her amber eyes diverted downward to her boots, not knowing really what to say or to add.

The echoes of clicking and clacking of heels worn by students and the soles of the shoes rubbing against the school floor wandered out, the noises completely taking over the dire conversation.

"It's been too long, Mass." Alicia finally said, breaking the silence that was forming. She lifted her arms, for what was supposed to be a friendly gesture, ended up as an awkward hug. With the hug finishing, she pointed towards Massie's head, "Oh, wow, you don't have any more purple-coloured streaks." The pretty girl laughed heartily, "I think the last time I saw you, was when your hair was filled with a lot of purple streaks."

Massie lightly laughed along, "Yeah. I was trying to stand out as an individual." She paused, becoming quiet all of the sudden, studying Alicia's face. "I can't believe it's been already two years."

"I know." The Spanish girl responded in a quiet, sad voice."It's weird, you know? Despite two years passing, I feel like it was just yesterday that the five of us were put in a group for the clothing drive and how she rounded us up at table eighteen."Alicia let out a small squeak, her lustrous eyes began to water, "I feel like even if she's gone, Claire, seems like she's everywhere, still."

"I know what you mean." Massie kicked her heels, "Back in England, I always felt that Claire was there with me, like her presence never left."

A sudden gush of wind blew, blowing the scattered leaves in their way; a familiar smell of vanilla carried by the wind, which oddly, was the signature smell of the deceased blonde, went straight into their noses.

With the wind dying down, and the colourful leaves settling, Massie watched as the Spanish girl clapped her hands together, rather unenthusiastically, Alicia motioned her head towards the building, the girl looked she was trying to smile, but it came off as more of a wince, "We should get to class," the beauty mumbled, "We'll be late for the first day."

Agreeing, the amber-eyed girl led the way, sauntering forward, making her way up the stone stairs. Quickly, swirling her head around, Massie noted that Alicia was just right behind her, she was tugging on her dark skinny jeans. The brunette crinkled her nose without her estranged friend noticing, she never understood why Alicia, who had a great figure, always chose to wear such classy, conservative clothing and outfits. Her friend had the body that majority of the girls wanted, and could flaunt it, but she never did. Thankfully, the Latina's clothing was girly and elegant, otherwise, well, to Massie; it would have been a waste of a figure.

"My class is upstairs," Alicia waved her schedule out, once they entered the building, snapping Massie from her thoughts. "I have Math right now." The Latina peered over, "Do you think you can make your way for your first period...?"

"It's English." Massie informed, "I think it's on this floor." She rummaged through her favourite yak fur bag (another thing she bought back in Iceland), as she did, her union jack flag, purple-rhinestone crown, the letter 'M' from Coach and a miniature pug key chains that were attached on the bag, jingled together, creating a melodic sound. Digging more deeply, the brunette smiled as she finally found the slightly crinkle sheet of paper. "My class is A135."

"Oh, okay," Alicia tilted her head, some of her glossy hair had fallen to the left side, "It is on this floor; just go straight down the hall." Tugging on her jeans yet again, the Spanish girl bit on her red lips, she placed her hand on Massie's shoulder. "Will you be fine on your own?" She continued talking, "normally I would show you around the school, but I made a promise to a new girl, that I would show her around the school and the neighbourhood."

Simply, Massie waved her off. "I'm fine; I'll explore the place on my own."

The Latina held a gaze and then tore away; she raised her palms up and started to wave. It was then Massie noticed that Alicia was still wearing the handmade bracelets, that Claire given them years ago, after the horrible Ripple Thing.

Suddenly her throat became clogged. _The Ripple Thing_, the brunette swallowed nervously, no one had ever suspected the five of them for the incident, and just thinking about it, somehow made the atmosphere around her feel eerie and menacing.

Massie reached for her wrist, unlike Alicia, she hadn't worn the bracelets for years, the colourful beaded bracelets and braided strings that Claire had made, she had lost it after moving. She couldn't remember where she misplaced it, part of her felt guilty since the bracelets had small details of their own personality for each girl. And as well, the bracelets were a symbol to _never _talk about the Ripple Thing to anyone.

"I'll see you around, Lees—_Alicia_."

After watching Alicia bobbed her head calmly, and wandered off to the upper stairs, the short brunette strode forward. Everything she saw and passed through the hallways reminded her of what she left behind when she moved to England. The students, who were lagging behind, or probably loitering until the final bell rang, looked picture perfect, it was if nothing had changed.

Westchester Day looked exactly what she expected. The hallway was tall and high; the bottom half was covered with dark oak, while the top half was pure white, if one looked closely, they could tell the top wall was actually made of up tiny white bricks. The ceiling above her was painted in the colour of snow-white with different golden detailed decals for each hallway. On the ground below, were the smooth black wooden tiles, matching the bottom half of the wall. The lights that hung up, glistened, and there was a different painting on each wall and the wide windows had a circular arch.

Massie groaned inwardly, even the school appeared perfect. She continued to walk forward, it was then she heard footsteps shuffling behind her and a loud booming voice.

"Yo! England!"

She stopped, spun around hastily, and saw Joshua Hotz wearing what looked to be a clingy Ralph Lauren sweater vest with dark diesels; he was jogging to catch up with her. "Oh, hi," Massie said nonchalantly, almost completely dismissing him, she sped up her pace not wanting to be late for her class.

"Where are you rushing off to?" Josh asked brightly, maintaining her pace. The boy blinked at her with his naturally long dark eyelashes as he was right beside her, "What do you have for first period?"

"English."

"Same here!" He slapped the side of his black leather messenger bag, excitedly. "You got Mr. Harrington, right?"

Eyeing him suspiciously, Massie reluctantly gave in and opened her yak fur bag, fishing for the crinkled schedule she threw in after showing it to Alicia. Her amber eyes widened, when looking for the name of her English teacher. Across her schedule, she spotted the bolded name that was next to English 11, D. Harrington.

"Yeah," Massie shoved the paper back in, "I have Mr. Harrington." She tossed her dark chocolate brown hair around, "Is he easy?"

"I wouldn't know," Josh shrugged casually, "From what I heard is that he's new to the school and this is his first teaching job." He started to whistle, "He must be good enough to teach, I don't think a teacher ever got a job in this school on their first try." The Latino tilted his head, and gazed at her expectantly to say something else.

Instead, in response, all she did was bit on her lips. When he wasn't looking, Massie gazed upward, studying his face. His dark hair was slightly wavy, there was small mole on his left side of his cheek and when he smiled, she noticed he only had one dimple.

They continued walking forward to their class when Josh suddenly turned to her, "Are you checking me out?" His smile was so big and teasing, as if he knew what she was doing all along.

"_N-no_," Massie jumped, surprised. Embarrassed that Josh had caught her, she strode faster; a sigh of relief came out of her mouth, when she finally found her classroom, but she was unable to enter.

The doorway was blocked by a very tall girl, who had dark fiery red tight ringlets, she was thin like a model and the outfit she wore was high-fashioned, couture, chic and glamorous, it almost looked like it came from the fashion runway for _next _year. The girl looked like she belonged on a magazine cover, yet, there was something familiar about her that Massie couldn't put her finger on.

Lurching forward, she gasped and nearly choked on her saliva when she realized why she was so familiar looking.

It _couldn't_ be, could it?

Massie watched the tall girl moved her body to the side, as she did, a Tiffany bracelet fell against her wrist. Her amber eyes popped, the initials that were engraved on the tiny silver charm hearts stated D.A.M., for_ Dylan Anastasia Marvil_, so it really was Dylan.

Standing there like a tree stump for a few awkward seconds, the amber-eyed girl finally gathered her courage; she marched right up to Dylan, mumbling softly. "Dylan, hey."

The tall and now extremely gorgeous redheaded girl placed her cell phone down and glanced downward at whoever had distracted her. There was a small crinkle forming from her eyebrows, her lips twisted and her expression was blank. And then all of the sudden, her emerald eyes grew large, and her glossed lips untwisted and turned into a smile.

"Oh my god!" Dylan shrieked. She swivelled away for a quick moment, dropping her phone into her black Fendi purse, and then went back focusing onto Massie. "How are you? And _where_ were you by the way?"

"I'm good," Massie replied, she giggled at the sight of Dylan's hanging mouth, "I was in England."

"Oh, I see." The redhead smirked. She gazed behind Massie, staring directly at Josh, "So that's how _you_ came up with the nickname, Hotz."

Wheeling her head around, Massie noticed that Josh looked flushed. The boy made a face at Dylan, but quickly erased it, and shrugged instead. He came between the two girls, about to head in, Josh faced Massie, tapping her on her shoulder, "I'll save you a seat, England."

"Um, sure?" She said, not really caring her answer came out as a question. With Josh gliding his way in, the girl moved out of the way for incoming students and locked eyes onto her old friend.

"So...you and Josh Hotz?" Dylan asked slowly after shoving to the side herself, her red eyebrows were arched and her lips puckered in utter curiosity.

Old feelings she thought she had buried long ago came back rushing into her system. Massie wrinkled her forehead, "What? _Ehmagawd _no!" Her hands clamped over her mouth, as her old phrase slipped out of her mouth accidently, she hadn't used any of her old sayings since she became friends with the blonde.

Just as she was about to ask news related about Claire, the brunette felt her phone buzzed in her bag, she was about to reach for it, but decided against it at the last second. Out of the blue, a girl with deep brown crimped hair blocked the way.

"Dyl!" The girl trilled, "You will not believe it! Saylene Homer isn't pregnant! Apparently she gained weight due to her mother running away with her maid."

"Serious?" Dylan gasped; she tilted her head to the side and shot an apologetic look towards Massie.

On that cue, the brunette took it as a sign to leave and hurry into the classroom, but before going in, she glanced at the girl who was speaking to Dylan.

Her eyes widened when realizing who it was. It was none other than the dorky Layne Abeley, except she wasn't dorky anymore. Like Dylan, Layne looked like a glamorous model. The last time Massie saw her was when she had worn seven braids in her hair, her hair dyed in multicoloured streaks, wore feathered fedora hats and could have easily been a shoe in for a female version of Tom Cruise.

It was only the first day, and already, there seemed to be more surprises she thought there would be. First, Josh Hotz, the boy she used to have a crush on way back in the beginning of sixth grade—which was_ so_ unlike her—finally noticed her and was paying attention to her. And now, Dylan was BFF with the once dorky Layne Abeley. What was going to happen next? She wasn't gone that long, was she?

Ignoring Josh's wave and the desk he had obviously saved for her, Massie flopped down to the first desk that she saw, which was in the middle row. Curious, she picked up her phone, to see exactly why it had buzzed. Maybe it was Derrick, the guy she had met and made out with yesterday at Hollis, the local bar.

Thinking about him, made Massie blush, he wasn't the typical guy in Westchester, like Josh Hotz. Derrick was soulful, unique, intelligent, understanding and interesting, when he spoke, it made her eager to listen to every word he would say. They had exchanged numbers before completely parting ways, and last night they talked for two hours and thirty-eight minutes before the both of them had called it a night.

"Everyone please take a seat!"

She dropped her phone before flipping it open and glanced up, there was a guy in front of the room, facing the whiteboard, and it must have been Mr. Harrington. The students who were standing around quickly sat, and both Dylan and Layne scurried in picking their seats, the two desks which were right in front of her.

Their teacher, Mr. Harrington, had his back faced towards his students. He had sandy blonde hair and was wearing a casual white collar shirt, and long khaki pants. In the front of the room, he scribbled in messy writing on the whiteboard, English 11, and underneath it was Mr. Harrington.

Massie took this time to glance down at her phone, praying that Derrick had texted her. Her heart fluttered in anxiety. Just as she was pulling her rhinestone-covered purple Motorola Razor out, Mr. Harrington spun around and spotted her head down, not paying attention to him, his eyebrows furrowed together.

"You can't use cell phones in class—," there was a silent pause, the only noise that filled it, in that instant was the clacking from the black marker clattering onto the ground. "—holy _shit_."

There was a simultaneous gasp in the classroom, their heads turned towards where he was looking, all of them puzzled why their teacher would use profanity on the first day.

And then, she gazed up, puzzled at first, but it immediately washed away.

She too, gasped, but not for the same reason as her classmates, because standing in front of her was Derrick, _her_ Derrick, the guy she met last night and hooked up with.

Her heart thumped, and she swore beads of sweat were dripping down from her forehead. As Derrick and all her classmates looking at her, Massie slyly distracted herself by peering down at the text. It was from an unknown phone number.

**A teacher-student relationship? Yummy. He may be new to teaching, but somehow something tells me he learned from the best! Just ask Daddy! – C**

And for another time, just like last night, Massie agreed impeccably on something with Derrick.

_Holy._ _Shit._

**[...]**

Thirty minutes into lunch break, Alicia found herself in the arms of Connor Foley, her boyfriend of five months. As she wiggled her entire body, adjusting to find a comfortable spot, her nose was immediately filled with his signature cologne, _Bvlgari Blv_, which gave her a sense of ease and comfortableness that she needed.

Despite going out with him for five months, Alicia still felt weirdly uncomfortable around Connor, which was strange, since before dating they were close friends for almost two years. At first, she assumed it was the smell of smoke that stuck onto his clothing, as Connor was an avid smoker, yet that didn't make sense, because her own father, Len, would smoke from time to time, so she was kind of use to it. But then she realized, she didn't really like being intimate with him. The farthest they've gone was when Alicia had stupidly allowed him to feel her up, and that was only _one_ time.

There was just something about being intimate with guys that made her jittery, though she concluded that it was because she didn't have enough experience. Connor was her first boyfriend, the first guy she kissed and the first guy she hung alone with.

"What's the matter babygirl?" Connor asked. He wrapped his muscular arms around her waist even tighter. "You haven't said a word since we left the cafeteria." The two of them had ditched their friends at the cafeteria for more 'alone' time with each other. It was Connor's idea; really, he pestered Alicia until she reluctantly agreed, even though in her mind she didn't really wanted to leave her friends from dance and those who were on the swim team.

Before they had entirely scuttled out of the cafeteria, Alicia whipped her head around, and spotted her old friends eating at their own tables, separated from one another. Dylan was giggling with Layne Abeley, Allie-Rose Singer and Jessi Rowan. Three tables behind her was Kristen, eating with her fellow soccer players and friends, and Massie was in the back corner, eating while drawing, alone, despite there were other students at the very table. Though at one point, Joshua Hotz came by and began chatting with her, but he quickly left as Massie seemed very disinterested in listening to him.

"Nothing," Alicia mumbled. Honestly, she would have given to be anywhere than sitting with Connor, at his locker. However, her boyfriend did point out they wouldn't been able to hang out with each other for the upcoming weeks, as Connor would be busy dealing with the drama club and directing and also auditioning for the lead role for the upcoming play. As for her, she would be spending her time juggling between the school's dance team and being one of the writers for the school's newspaper.

Connor frowned at her, unconvinced. "Is this because of Claire?" He casted her a worried look, "Alicia, it's been already two years, don't you think you should move on by now?"

Move on? Was he kidding?

Of course it was so easy for him to say that. Connor hadn't personally known Claire, he might have known her name and her story, but he didn't know her like Alicia did. He wouldn't even imagine how it felt like to be in her shoes or her any of her old friends'. He wouldn't even know how it felt to lose a best friend in a bizarre instant. He wouldn't even be able to understand how it felt to lose someone she _loved _dearly...

Then again, nobody, except Claire, herself, knew that Alicia loved and harboured an unrequited crush on her best friend.

"You wouldn't understand, Connor," She said defensively, "I know it's been two years, but, Claire was my best friend."

"Note the word _'was'_, Leesh," Connor replied, rather dryly. Noticing her face falling drastically, he sighed, immediately changing his tune, "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I should understand what you've been dealing with."

Alicia turned her head around, glancing into his deep olive-green eyes, Connor seemed liked he meant it for _now_. On some days, when she brought up Claire without really noticing it, or whether it was either an article popping up randomly about the vivacious blonde or updated news (which happened rarely), Alicia would go on discussing Claire to Connor, she didn't mean to sound obsess about her, but, really she never talked about Claire with anyone, not even with her old friends since they didn't seem to want to. So one day, when watching a news report, the Latina jumped into a funny story Claire had told her, distracting herself from the negative. And on that same day, Connor who was half-joking, said to her, "The way you talk about her, it seems that you love her more than me."

She remembered how her skin prickled, and heated up when hearing that, and remembered how she countered back with a lame joke. Though ever since that day, Alicia tried her best not to bring up Claire that often, because sometimes she wondered if Connor knew that she did in fact, loved Claire more than a friend, the way he said it, was with a tinge of disdain, yet, he was _half-serious_ about it.

"Look, Connor..." Her voice trailed off, as she was cut off, with her phone beeping loudly. Reaching for her iPhone from her back pocket of her jeans, she punched in her pass code, and then her eyes widened when she spotted who the text was from.

**Olivia:** Hey Alicia! I'm in front of the library and I think I'm lost. I could use the touring you promised me, right about now. ;)

"Who was that?" He peered to look at her phone screen; she was too quick for him, setting her phone to the home page.

"Oh," Alicia said casually, "You know that new girl? I promised to show her around the school and the neighbourhood."

There was a long pause between them. All of the sudden, she felt Connor fidgeting. Alicia swirled her head to him, "What's the matter?" Her eyebrows arched into an angle, "Were you listening to what I was saying at all?"

Connor just stared down, ignoring her. Confused, she motioned her head wherever he was looking. Her lips went dry, when she finally understood why, he became quiet. He was looking at her iPhone, well, more exactly, her screensaver. It was the screensaver that she had secretly changed over the weekend, replacing the previous screensaver which was of her and Connor hanging out at Mackenzie beach. Now, her screensaver was displaying a certain pretty blonde.

"_Connor..._," Alicia bit her lips, not knowing what to say. Great, now her boyfriend would become even more suspicious and wary around her. She glanced down at the screensaver, studying it. From all her pictures of Claire, the one she selected was her favourite. The picture was Claire, sitting on the hood of the red convertible; she was hugging her knees to her chest, her smile was huge and bright, her pale-blonde hair was flowing beautifully and her usual pale skin popped out, glowing.

Alicia—although it sounded a bit weird—she _adored_, the picture. Claire had personally given it to her around the middle of November in the seventh grade, for a modelling gig, really, yet, even though the Latina had told what _really_ happened, the cheerful girl insisted she could keep it, Claire didn't even hesitate, allowing her automatically.

"Here," Claire said jovially, she smiled at Alicia, while handing the photo to her. "This is my favourite picture of myself. Hopefully Lucinda will accept it."

"Are you kidding? Of course she'll accept it, Claire!" Alicia grinned back, shyly. "How can she not? You're really _beauti_—it's a great a shot of you, there's no way she can deny it, she _has _to use you as a model." The Latina retrieved the photo and placed it in her pink folder, while turning her back away, covering her burning face. She almost slipped, telling Claire how she really felt about her.

The two of them were discussing about pictures to give to Lucinda Hill, who was the fashion editor of _Teen Vogue_. Just recently, Alicia and the others had participated in a uniform contest OCD was holding.

All of this starting because Massie had insisted to wear their handmade costumes 'The Dirty Devils,' on Halloween during school. Their costume was a skimpier and tighter version of an original devil costume, and Massie, who was usually against looking trashy since it was so typical for Westchester—the brunette's words—demanded it should be done since it was the only day she would wear something so cliché like that. The Spanish beauty wasn't up for it, at first, but after heavy convincing from Massie and Dylan, she finally agreed, wearing the costume that covered the most, of course. After, trailing down the hallways in their costume, other students mimicked them, to the point, where one student had injured herself in the process of creating her own 'Dirty Devil'. When the principle saw what was happening she gawked at them, and went to the school board. The school then demanded that there would be consequences for the ruckus, and which lead to the uniform contest.

Knowing, Massie's er—_tasteful_ style, Dylan's love for low cut shirts and Kristen's bossy attitude, Alicia went her own way, working with girls from her dance class. She wanted to wear a uniform that she felt comfortable with, and didn't have weird patterns and design or that didn't show that much skin and she wanted to have fun while creating it, nothing against Kristen though, but at times the dark blonde had a knack for sucking the fun out of things, especially when it had to do with a competition.

The one thing she didn't like working against her friends, was that she wasn't able to spend time with Claire.

So, the day members of the school board, parents and students voted to for which uniform to select, Alicia, and her group consisting of Meredith Phillips and Catherine Lusky, they had won.

Chills went down her spine, when hearing their names being announced. They had won, but unbeknownst to Meredith and Catherine, Alicia had switched the tallied box right before the counting had started. In reality, Claire, Massie, Dylan and Kristen had won. It was a rotten thing to do, but she couldn't bear to wear the uniform her friends made for the rest of the semester.

"It's really great that Lucinda allowed you to pick four other people to model on the cover." Claire piped up, sweetly. "I didn't think that would happen, since you_won_ fair and square."

"Y-yeah," Alicia replied back, stuttering, her eyes landed on the floor. Somehow, the Latina believed Claire and the others knew she had cheated, but they didn't say a thing. She wouldn't have assumed so, except, last night, she received a phone call from Lucinda herself, who loved the idea to bring more people to the shoot. The problem was, Alicia had never made a phone call to Lucinda, or brought up the idea, the editor loved so dearly.

Claire walked around her in circles, until finally plopping down Alicia's satin bed. "I mean, if there is anything you would like to tell me, you can say it now, I won't judge you on it."

"Claire," Alicia swallowed audibly, she tilted her head for a second, finally gazing into her friend's twinkling sapphire eyes. Did she already know? Holding up her pinky finger, she thrust it under the blonde's chin, "If I tell you, promise me you won't tell the others, alright?"

"I _promise_. Cross my heart and hope to die." The blonde beamed, locking pinkies.

In one deep breath, the Latina spilled out everything in detail, especially how she managed to switch boxes on time, without being noticed by anyone. The look Claire was giving her by the time she was done made her entire body tingle with tremendous guilt. Alicia buried her face into her hands, "I'm really sorry, Claire. I feel bad for doing this to you and the others."

For quite some time, the only noises that filled the air, was gurgling sounds coming from the miniature rock fountain. Finally, the blonde's lips parted, "it's more than not wanting to wear our uniforms, isn't it, Leesh?" Claire stared at her, intense. "It's because you wanted to prove to your parents, that you could continue with something and win. Are they really still hung over that you quit swimming in favour of taking dance?"

Alicia became shell-shocked. It was a bit scary how Claire understood her so well. In reality, a part of her cheated, ironically, to show her parents she was determined and focused. Nadia and Len had accused her not to be as she had quitted swimming in the beginning of September and both of them were disappointed. They thought swimming would be a golden opportunity for her to gain scholarships, and they believed it had more opportunities to gain them, over dancing. So, when she had told them that she was quitting, Len and Nadia were enraged, both of them accusing of her to be lazy and slacking off.

It was the first time in Alicia's life did she ever go against her parents' word. Though, while it was true dancing for her was a passion, the Latina never really explained why she had really quit. No one knew, even Claire, didn't know.

"So, I am right." Claire's mouth twitched into a smile, she loved being right about everything. "Well, whatever. It's been done, and besides, even if you did cheated, all of us still gets to model for Teen Vogue." The blonde patted Alicia's hand, "It's a win-win situation."

"Still..."

"You're so _naive_, Alicia." Claire scowled, "Everyone lies, cheats and backstabs at least one person in their life." She grabbed Alicia's arm, dragging her to sit beside her. Her head swirled, facing the Spanish girl. "Don't say anything to Lucinda, Leesh." The blonde batted her eyelashes, "this is could be my big break into the modelling industry. And who knows?" She giggled, "I could be _famous!_"

The Latina brushed her hair away from her face, "As a model?"

"Yeah, in modelling," Claire smiled. "I already love photography and posing for photos will be even better."

"Why?"

A sigh came out of Claire, "I really like taking pictures, I really do. But the bad thing about it, it's that your _behind_ the camera, you don't know what's going on, you don't know the story." The blonde suddenly reached for Alicia's hand, squeezing it. "But when you're _in_ the pictures, you can tell or even _create_ compelling stories, just by making certain facial expressions and body languages—anything really, can help create it." Claire pursed her ruby lips, "pictures can tell a story without people really noticing it. Like they say, there's a story behind every picture."

Suddenly, the bed shook, moving from the vibrations of Claire's cell phone. The girl snatched her phone off the bed, reading the text; a bright smile appeared on her face. "Anyways, I have to go now." Claire stood up abruptly; she reached down grabbing her satchel. "Remember to scan the picture to Lucinda."

Alicia nodded. "Sure, I'll give it back to you tomorrow."

By this time, Claire's foot was already out the door frame. She swivelled around, "Keep it." The blonde peered down at her text and glanced up, "you'll need it when I'm _gone_." And then she left.

_Keep it. You'll need it when I'm gone._

Alicia shuddered.

Until now, she never realized how cryptic that sounded, and how _true_ and how _right_ Claire was.

Did Claire know something was going to happen to her way back then? And who was she talking to on the phone? All these questions always popped into her mind.

The beeping from her iPhone, from incoming texts, drifted Alicia from her memory, and back to the present. She blinked, realizing Connor had been staring at her the entire time. "Sorry, I should go now." Alicia mumbled, as she noticed the texts were from Olivia, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek and left, before he could interject.

Taking one flight of stairs, turning left and then right, Alicia spotted Olivia. "Hey, Olivia." She gave her a wave, "want to explore the school, now?"

Olivia, jumped, despite that, she grinned at Alicia. "Yup. Surprisingly, I managed to find my classes; the people in there are pretty friendly."

Carefully, as they walked down the halls on the second floors, and then up to the third floor, Alicia made sure she pointed out where all the classrooms were, and told Olivia the best places to eat and study. As the two made their way back down to the first floor, Alicia pulled Olivia into her favourite room, the darkroom.

"This is my favourite place in the school." She said proudly, she smiled at the blonde, but was unaware if Olivia had seen it.

"I can believe it." Olivia said, "It's so mysterious and you don't know what you'll see until you get to know the process." She reached for Alicia, and said in a teasing—or was it flirtatious? — voice, "kind of like _you_. But in your case, I won't know what I get, until I get to know you better."

Thankfully, it was dark; otherwise Olivia would have seen the red on her face. Alicia leaned her body against the door, pushing it open. "Come on, we should head out to next class," she read her watch, "We only have five minutes until third period."

Just as she walked down the hallway, Olivia stopped her. The blonde crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, "What happens if I don't want to go?"

Alicia looked to both sides, thinking about what Olivia said. "You have too, its school, which is mandatory."

The blonde made a face, "If I keep listening to everybody I should and the rules, where's the fun in life?" Olivia tugged on Alicia's arm, "I'm my own person, and I make my own rules. Besides, it's the first day, you won't miss a thing."

After some consideration, Alicia gave in. "Fine." She watched Olivia clap happily, "But you have to help me think of an excuse to tell my parents." She showed Olivia the back door, and just like that, they were both out of the school.

Each time they passed a neighbourhood, the Latina explained who lived where, showed the shortcuts to get to school, pointed out the houses that had vicious dogs and murmured which lawn not to step on, as the owners were very grumpy and grouchy people.

"Cool." The excited blonde giggled. "I don't think I would have ever figured out those short cuts, or who lived where." She began to lead the way, "hey want to come over? My parents are out and my brother is at school, so it would only be the two of us."

For a moment, Alicia considered turning back, but when remembering what Olivia said about making her own rules, she shrugged, "why not? But there's a faster way to get to your house." Feeling Olivia's eyes on her back, Alicia led Olivia into a spacious and unoccupied lawn which at the very back of it, leaded up onto a graveled path, which guided them into a small wooded forest.

Making their way in, Olivia glanced at the surroundings, "isn't it kind of weird that there's a forest right here?" Her head swiveled in every direction, "I mean the other neighbourhoods all had houses in a row."

"A new house was supposed to be built here, but I think they're planning on changing it to a park instead." Alicia answered, though while she did, her heart pang, the forest was special hangout for her and Claire, not to mention her other friends.

"So why isn't the park built yet?"

The Spanish beauty felt her shoulders droop, "a lot of things came up." She thought about the two incidents that stood out, Claire's disappearance and The Ripple Thing. Her head shot up once she spotted the distinctive fence of the Lyon's—now, the Ryan's home. "Come on, we're here."

They stumbled their way down the forest path and into Olivia's backyard. As they went in further, Alicia saw the old oak tree, her heart plummeted. At the end of the sixth grade, she had carved her and Claire's initials into it, and then traced a big heart. Never really understanding what possessed her to do so, she wasn't even sure Claire knew about it.

"Hurry Alicia," Olivia had already made her way in the house, her hand gripped the doorknob, holding the door for her. "Do you want something to drink? Eat?"

"No, I'm fine." Alicia waved her off. She sat in the stool once she got in. Her bright eyes wandered the room, studying it. It was then she noticed, the big, wide poster that stated FREE!, was leaning against a kitchen cupboard, "When did you take the sign back in?"

There was a confused look on Olivia's face, she turned and noticed what Alicia was talking about, "Oh, that? Right after you left, my family went out for dinner, and when we came back most of the stuff were gone. And today in the morning, I think more people rummaged through the boxes. So whatever was left, my mom donated it to the church and to the community."

"Oh." Disappointment clouded all over Alicia's face. She had planned to take more of Claire's things. She glanced down, reading the time of her watch. She gasped. "I should go."

"What? Why? You just got here."

"I know. It's just that I need to go back for last period."

Olivia bit her lip, "I thought you were planning to skip the rest of the day with me."

The raven-haired girl shook her head frantically, "I only meant third period."

All of the sudden, Olivia laughed. "If you were only planning to skip third period, you should have said so, otherwise I wouldn't have dragged you along."

Alicia shrugged lamely, "I just wanted to show you around the neighbourhood, so you wouldn't get lost."

The blonde broke into a huge smile; she flounced her way towards Alicia. "So you walked with me so I wouldn't get lost? You're so adorable!"

_Adorable?_

"Um, thanks, I guess." The Latina replied, unsure. Just as she was about to head out, Olivia tugged on the sleeves of her green military jacket. Alicia spun around, and was surprised by Olivia, as the blonde gave her a kiss on the cheeks and even more surprised at herself by reciprocating.

"_Mwah!_" Olivia sweetly purred. "That's the California way of saying good-bye."

Somehow, she didn't believe her, but the Spanish girl shrugged it off, like it was nothing. Though after striding out the house and into the backyard, Alicia felt her heart beating quickly, she became shaky, not with fear, but with _joy_.

The girl, distracted by the kiss, wasn't paying attention and her foot hit against an object causing her to fall flat on her stomach.

She groaned.

Quickly dusting off the dirt, Alicia was about to stand up, until she spotted a piece a paper sticking out that looked like it had been freshly buried. Her curiosity got the best of her, she started to dig it out, and when it was finally legible to read, her mouth hung, she gasped.

**Hey Leesh! I guess I'm not the only friend you want to kiss. Mwah! – C**

In panic, she swirled her head around, hoping to see someone, she didn't. But what caught her attention was a sparkling light coming from behind her. She snatched it, and turned cold, realizing that this was the object that caused her to fall.

It was one of Claire's neon star-shaped earring.

Deliberately set up for her to fall and read the note.

The earring planted there for her by someone, someone who knew she was planning to come here all _along_.

**[...]**

After the last bell of the day had rung, while sitting pretty in her boyfriend's new BMW, Dylan slyly tugged her ultramarine-coloured ruffle top down lower for Dempsey, hoping he would get the chance to catch a glimpse of her cleavage. Today was the day that she vowed to herself that she would finally lose her virginity to someone she loved, and that someone was none other than her long-time crush Dempsey Solomon.

For at least a year now, she had been giving him subtle clues. Later on in the year, she would give him bigger hints. Despite her gorgeous boyfriend taking a pledge for the virginity club, she would figure out a way to convince him. If she worked hard on something, with enough determination and fight, she would achieve it.

The only thing that troubled her goal was that, Dempsey was too stubborn. Sometimes his stubbornness pissed her off, like the time he refused to shave off his stubble, the only guy who could pull of wearing stubble was Connor Foley. While Dempsey was absolutely handsome, he was _no _Connor Foley. Another time was when his highlights washed off, and he was too lazy to get dye it back in, it took her three months of convincing to do so, and when he finally gave in, Dylan sighed in relief, since his caramel blonde hair wouldn't look dull anymore.

The pestering may had seen annoying to him, but it had to be done. Appearances meant everything in Westchester, and Dylan knew that first hand.

"So where do you want to hang out today, Dyl?" Dempsey asked, once he slammed his front door. He reached for his seatbelt, buckling himself tightly and securely, oblivious of Dylan's action.

"It doesn't matter," She said, using her best sultry voice, "whatever you choose, we'll have fun."

"I can choose whatever?"

Dylan smiled seductively, "Yeah, pick whatever you want."

He started drumming his fingers against the leather steering wheel. His green safari eyes shifted from left to right, a look she was all too familiar with, it meant that the blonde boy was thinking. Finally, as he took his hands of the steering wheel, he turned to her. "Why don't you come with me to the virginity club? It's really informative and the counsellor there is really nice—," Dempsey stopped himself from finishing his sentence, his face painted in horror, as he was speaking, Dylan was hiking the hem of her black a-line skirt up, flashing her long legs, at him.

"Are you serious?" The red head snapped, sounding a bit dumbfounded, she pulled her skirt back down, and started adjusting her top, fixing it until it was back to normal. "I said, pick something fun! Not something that would be less exciting than watching paint dry."

Looking extremely hurt, Dempsey put down his car keys onto his lap. His mouth opened, instead of saying anything, only a soft whimper came out. "It is fun, Dyl." The boy mumbled, quietly, not doing very good job of convincing, "give it a chance."

A dry laugh came out of her mouth. Was he serious? Fun? How the hell could the virginity club be fun? Maybe taking virginal pledges somehow excited Dempsey, which then would have been very ironic.

Now, she was the one drumming her fingers, on the dashboard, to be more exact. Dylan rolled her emerald eyes and faced him with an annoyed and soured expression, "what's there to give a chance?" She started to wave her hands, mimicking the jazz hands, "I make pledges to myself when it comes to shopping, I don't need one for sex." She shot him a nasty glare, "And why would I give the club a chance? I'm not going to wait until marriage to have sex."

For a few seconds, the two of them didn't say a word; they sat there, not moving an inch, only focusing on each other's eyes. It was finally Dempsey who was the one who broke the eye contact, he glanced downward and then back up, "but _I_ am, Dylan. I want my first time to be special, to be with someone I truly love and care about. And if yo—"

"—wait, are you?" Dylan raised her palms up, interrupting him; her voice began to crack in disbelief. Her lips began to twitch; she widened her eyes, studying his expression. He couldn't...there was no way he would. They were the golden couple of the school, there was just no way would they be breaking up over something as juvenile as a pledge to the virginity club.

But all the hope she had was dead, once she saw the slow nod from him, the red head began to tremble.

"—if you can't accept my pledge, my promise to myself and you can't wait for _us_, Dylan, then I don't think it's going to work between us." An awkward pause formed, "_Sorry_."

At that moment, a mixture of emotions bubbled through her body, anger, fear, sadness, but mostly disappointment, Dempsey was the boy she liked for long, and now it was over, because they couldn't agree on sex. Wouldn't the decision of having sex be easy, if they loved each other? He told her on numerous occasions he loved her, even before the virginity club, so why did he have to do this?

"Dylan, I'm really sorry, I still care about you and I still lov—"

"_Fuck off_." The girl said coolly, surprising herself with her strong tone, her insides were the exact opposite. She unbuckled her seatbelt, and grabbed the passenger door handle, flinging it open with an angry force.

As she got out, she noticed Dempsey's shocked face, and she couldn't resist making one last sarcastic jab, "what? Did you make a pledge for not hearing swear words, too?"

"Dylan—"

"I said, fuck off!" Dylan screamed angrily, her loud screech attracted students who were passing by, but then again, she wasn't really caring at this moment. She slammed the door in his face and sped walk to the parking lot. Great, just great, of all days, Dempsey had to break up with her when she left her car at home. What an asshole.

Marching around, frantically, she finally stopped, when she watched Dempsey drove off. Two years, two long years, and just like that, their relationship was over, and all because they couldn't agree on sex. Dylan didn't know whether it was sad or pathetic.

_Bzzz. Bzzz._

The buzzing, coming from her phone, which was in her purse, was a great distraction. She whipped her _HP Palm Pre_ out, it was Layne calling.

"Hey, L.A.,"

"Need a ride, Dyl?"

Dylan crinkled her nose, amazed at the coincidence. "Yeah, sure, where are you?"

"Look behind, _slut_."

_Beep._

Whirling her head around, she grinned happily at seeing Layne pull up to the curb in her Audi. Hastily, she threw in her phone into the front pocket of her Fendi, and raced towards the passenger side. After opening the door, and shooting Layne a quick grateful smile, she settled in immediately, with comfort.

Hanging out with Layne and being best friends with her, was _great_. It was like having a sister, someone you could have inside jokes with, share secrets with, gossip with, and despite having two older sisters already, the bond between her and Dylan was _special._ They practically went through the same thing before, as they were once dorky geeks and now, they were on top. They were fabulous, like Claire would have said.

"Nice timing, _bitch_." Dylan smirked at Layne, complimenting her best friend by whacking the dangling leopard-print hoop earrings she wore. "How did you know I needed a ride?"

"_ESP_," Layne joked, without missing a beat. "Actually I heard you screaming at Dempsey, well, swearing really," Her lips turned into a frown, she began honking violently at the person who had cut in front of them, after calming down, and exiting out the parking lot, Layne gazed at Dylan, and then went back focusing on the road. "Why were you screaming at him? Nearly, the entire school heard you."

Dylan sighed; she spoke in a small voice, dreading to spill the details. "Dempsey broke up with me. We were arguing over the virginity pledge, and he told me if I couldn't accept his pledge, and honour it, then we weren't right for each other."

Layne snorted, she started to turn right, "what a pompous ass, Virginity Boy doesn't know what he's missing." As they reached onto a red light, the brunette placed an arm on Dylan, sympathetically. "We are going shopping, let's get your mind off of ," she grinned, "and I promise we'll legitimately shop for accessories and clothing."

Normally, Dylan would have already perked up at hearing the word 'shop', but after the asshole—er, _Dempsey_ fiasco, she simply felt like sitting at home, okay, more like curling up in bed at home. "I'm not really up for it, Layne."

"Really?" Layne frowned. The brunette blinked, checking the side mirrors, she glanced at Dylan, a weird smile appeared on her face. "Get in loser. We're going shopping."

"Okay, first off, I'm already in the car, Layne. And second, spare me the _Mean Girls _quote; I don't want to drag my favourite movie down with my pissy mood."

The light turned green, Layne pressed on the gas pedal, zooming straight. "_Jesus_. Did Dempsey suck out your soul after he dumped you?" Her plum-coloured lips (due to her lipstick, Berry Jungle) parted again, "So are you telling me you just want to go home?"

Dylan nodded.

Sighing loudly, Layne quickly made a u-turn onto the upcoming street, changing the direction from the mall and now to the Marvil's house. "_Funny_." Layne simpered. "I never had any problems with Eli."

The redhead knew that her best friend was pissed at not going to the mall, but did she have to rub it in? Dylan shifted her weight, side to side, uncomfortably. She remembered how Layne and Eli had sex in ninth grade, only going out for three months. Layne would brag about it daily, which infuriated Dylan at times, but also made her jealous and insecure.

About ten minutes later, Layne had pulled up onto the Marvil's curb, Dylan got out, and shut the door, despite her friend's attitude, the brunette promised she would text her later, to check up. With Layne leaving and the tall iron gates that led to front door finally opening, Dylan marched through the massive lawn, and up the marble stairs. She fished for her house key, jamming it in the key lock, pushing the door open.

Typical. No one was home.

It was always so _nice_ to be greeted by silence.

The girl raced up the carpeted spiral stairs down the hall and into her room. She was used to this, her mother, Merri-Lee Marvil loved working, so she would come home until night, even though her show ran at three to four 'o'clock in the afternoon. Plus, her mother was virtually engaged to her work life; Dylan couldn't remember the last time Merri-Lee sat down with her just to talk or hang out or have a mother-daughter day. The talk show host paid more attention to her blackberry than she did with her daughters. It wasn't only Merri-Lee's presence missing in the house though, Ryan and Jaime her two older sisters, both of them off to college, away, studying and pursuing nursing and acting, respectively, much to their mother's dismay.

Dylan flung herself onto her queen-sized bed, the instant her face met her bed, hot tears came rushing down. She was Dylan Marvil, the daughter of the most famous and watched television host, the youngest of the family, the Queen Bee of the school, the now, hot and gorgeous girl every guy fanaticized about or wanted to date. Yet, why didn't always feel so _unloved_? Why did she always felt like she was the fat dork she was years ago?

Was this about Dempsey? Maybe. But then again, maybe it was more about her _father_, Donald Marvil.

In the morning, right before leaving for school, she had rummaged through the mail pile. And one particular mail caught her attention. It was in a cornflower blue envelope, addressed to her, and surprisingly not for her mother. At first, Dylan was expecting it to be from her Grandmother, but she scanned the envelope, her eyes popped out, it was from her father, instead.

Her heart leaped, her father had run away from home and eventually divorced Merri-Lee, leaving them for another woman, Anna Slootskiya and her daughter, Svetlana Slootskiya. It was so odd for him to mail her, the only time she received any form of communication from him was through e-mail, and usually it was a cheesy flash mail. Before, Dylan would answer his e-mails constantly, Donald would reply, but not right away, it usually took him a few days. Nowadays, when he e-mailed her, the redhead deleted it; he was the one who tore their family apart, so in a sense, why should she give him a chance? Donald Marvil already made his decision, and he was going to be the husband and father of Anna and Svetlana, he made his choice, and he would have to deal with it.

As she opened the mail, Dylan remembered dropping it onto the ground. Inside, was a detailed handwritten letter, Donald explaining that he was going to marry Anna, and that he wanted her, Ryan and Jaime to be part of the wedding ceremony. She sneered at such a preposterous thing, what was he thinking? Dylan wasn't going to re-join his life, her dad made his mind, and it would stay that way. Besides, the girl wasn't on very good terms with Svetlana.

Slowly, her mind blanked, suddenly remembering the day she told Claire that she was meeting the Russian girl. In the seventh grade, Donald went through his effort, trying to make his daughters meet his new family, of course, both Ryan and Jaime refused to, but part of Dylan still wanted and maybe hoped that seeing her, would make him come back. During the following days Claire was very supportive; trashing Svetlana each time she got to, reassuring Dylan that her dad made a mistake, so when it came to dreaded day, the blonde even came with her, to meet the other girl. Dylan recalled how Claire made jokes about Svetlana, stating she was going to be known as a home wrecking daughter in the car, on their way there. But when it came to meet, face to face, Dylan was in shock. Svetlana was the_prettiest _girl she'd ever seen; she had round sky blue eyes, a beautiful tan and the shiniest golden-blonde hair, on a person. Claire must have been shocked as well, though, she quickly readjusted, and made her way to the other blonde, they immediately clicked, bonding over their pretty appearances, leaving dorky Dylan all alone.

That day was horrible. Not only did the redhead feel isolated, as her best friend was bonding with her enemy, her father accidently called her by the nickname he had given to her when he was still living with them. On that day, the ride back home, Dylan felt carsick; Donald had noticed and said aloud, "Is my little _Pillsbury doughgirl_ not feeling well?" She wanted to throw up right there, and it didn't help that Claire and Svetlana were giggling like stuck-up bitches.

Dylan's head shot up, her mind became cleared, dispersing the memory, when she felt her phone beeping. Quickly she grabbed her phone out expecting it to be Layne; the screen showed that it was actually Dempsey. Pursing her lips, she finally clicked on 'read', giving him the benefit of the doubt.

**Dempsey:** Dyl, I'm so sorry. We both overreacted; all I know is that I want to be with you and we're good together. Forgive me? Please take me back. XOXO

Warmth rushed into her body and entire system, she rubbed her tear-streaked face, ecstatic, about to type 'yes', when she heard a loud ping sound coming from her laptop, that she had forgotten to shut off since the morning.

Curious, she dropped her phone and made her way over to the computer. As she moved the cursor, the screen lit up, displaying her Facebook profile, on the top left corner, there was red indicator, indicating she received a new message from someone.

She clicked on the message, strangely, whoever the person was, their name was blocked, and it said 'unknown', scrolling down, Dylan lips parted, her mouth went dry. There was an attachment, a video attachment. Clicking play, the video was silent, and a bit blurry, but when it came to a focus it showed her on four different camera angles, proving that she took the sunglasses and then walking out with them. Dylan gasped, her eyes bulged in fear. Someone had proof that she had stolen from Dolce & Gabana's. Just as her shitty day was becoming better, it went south, how could this be even worse? Scrolling down once more, she spoke too soon, it did get worse.

**Hey, Dylan, would Dempsey take you back if he saw your afterschool 'shopping'? A little of advice, try to stay active, so maybe there's chance he will, cause you know what they say about food in prison it makes you fat! Isn't that right, Pilsbury Doughgirl?– C**

Panicking, Dylan started to feel queasy, the feeling in the pit of her stomach, her throat clogged, like something was about to burst. She knew what was coming, it was something she used to do for fun, but it now indicated fear, guilt and nervousness.

She _burped_.

**[...]**

There were only two people left in the old musty girl's changing room, despite the girls soccer coach, Lauren Milton, had cancel it abruptly, due to the absence of the assistant coach. Both of them blondes, but one was pacing back and forth, angrily, while the other sat down, and looked on, calmed.

"I cannot believe soccer was cancelled, just because the assistant coach couldn't make it!" Kori Gledman grunted in disbelief, she eyed Kristen up and down, waiting for the Siren's captain's approval.

Kristen stretched her arms as she sat down on the room bench, while simply nodding in agreement.

Truthfully and unknown to her fellow friend and teammate, Kristen was secretly glad that soccer practice had been cancelled. She could use the spare time to catch up with all her AP courses, especially biology. During class, they got an unexpected pop quiz, and at the end, they got the result. Once she peered at her mark, Kristen almost doubled over. She had gotten a B on the quiz, a _B_. And that made her stomach sink. A 'B' in anything, was a fail for the Gregory's, her family had to be on top, they had to be the smartest, they had to be the richest, they had to be the most polished family in all of Westchester and more importantly, they had to be the _best_. That, and well, being an eagerly overachiever was a part of her high strung personality.

The zipper sound of zipping up caught Kristen's unspoken attention. She glanced up in time, seeing Kori stuff her soccer uniform in her sports bag. The other blonde was in a hurry, she assumed, by the looks of it. Kristen moved her legs, until they were on the bench as well, she gazed at Kori in detail, and suddenly finding herself being amazed at how much a person could change within time.

Before, Kori, like Layne Abeley, was considered a freak, though the blonde wasn't treated as badly as Layne was. Kori used to be picked on by them, daily. They would tape pictures of Michael Jackson onto her locker, an insult to Kori's mother, as the five of them had found out, her mother had many surgery's done onto her face. And, embarrassingly enough, Kristen, herself, was the one who would point out Kori's horrendous posture aloud, yet, calling her a croissant behind her back, with Claire egging her on and the others giggling somewhat uneasily.

She sighed. Sometimes wondering why Kori was so accepting of their friendship that started in the eighth grade, as they spent a quality amount of time on being on the same soccer team. They were all horrible to her; yet, she'd just wave it off, like it was nothing, whenever Kristen mustered the courage to apologize for her past heinous behaviour. And sometimes, when she allowed her mind to go there, Kristen wondered if Kori _secretly hated_ her, maybe even all of them.

Kori smiled at Kristen, glancing at her. She pulled on her sports bag strap. "You look so different from before."

"What?" Kristen put her legs down, and stood up. Her eyebrows crinkled, confused.

"What I mean is," Her teammate continued, "you dress a lot better than before. I remember you used to change the clothes your mom gave to you, but now you wear them."

"Oh," Kristen gazed down at her outfit, the ensemble she was donning today, the pieces of clothing were the ones her mother had bought years ago, expect for the red bow belt and the long sleeved white and blue striped shirt. It was true though, before she hated any clothing her mother forced her to wear and even bought, but when gave it a second look, the pieces of clothing were cute in a polished preppy kind of way. "Yeah, I guess I know how to dress better now." She paused, blinking at her friend. "Do you still need a ride home?"

"No. I'm going to wait after school, for Strawberry to finish her swim meet."

Right. Coral Mcadams, or better known as Strawberry Mcadams, was Kori's best friend since way back in middle school. So, it wasn't a total surprise to Kristen, that Kori would be waiting after school, until her best friend had finished swimming.

She lifted her arms for a quick good-bye to her soccer friend and headed out the changing room and then the back door, which lead to the outside. Once Kristen found herself in the parking lot, she scanned the place, until she found her navy Mercedes Coupe.

A quick tug on the door handle, the soccer girl jolted in, sitting down. The blonde inserted her key into the ignition and once it started, she drove out the lot and onto the road, heading for her wanted destination, home. While coming to a halt because of a red light, Kristen took the time to examine her surroundings. The tall trees loomed, there were young and old pedestrians strutting down the street and on her left, there was a construction crew, hunched over, fixing and paving the bumpy road on the next lane.

Kristen inhaled sharply.

Just looking at the construction crew reminded her about what happened at last night's dinner. During the course of their high-dined meal, her mother, Marsha, persuaded Ali into staying in Westchester in any way she could, and when it finally came to dessert, Ali willingly agreed. At that point, Kristen was _actually_ okay, with her older cousin staying, but that feeling disappeared as soon as her bitch of a cousin, had mentioned about rooming in the newly furnished barn. The moment the word 'barn' had escaped from Ali's mouth, tiny pieces of Kristen's tiramisu came out, flying across the table.

"I mean, it only makes sense, Auntie Marsha." Ali said melodically, "the barn is big enough for the both of us."

"Both?" Marsha's eyebrows instantaneously rose cautiously, she peeked at Griffin quickly, and her aqua eyes went back onto Ali. The older woman frowned. "I don't know..."

"Please?" Ali pleaded softly, she gripped Griffin's hand, "if I should stay, Griffin is with me too. We want to be and live together, like a normal couple."

Marsha's face had noticeable softened. "Well..."

In a hurry, Kristen wiped her mouth, she didn't have time to gulp down her drink to wash off what was now (and probably) her chocolate covered teeth. "Mom!" She said exasperatingly, enough to command attention from all of them. "You promised me that I could get to live in the barn this year." The disbelief blonde leaned forward, gripping the table cloth as a source of strength and determination, "I worked really hard in the summer and last year. Both you and dad said if I could maintain my straight A's I would be allowed to live in the barn for this and senior year." Kristen bit her lip, bitterly, "Remember? So I could be prepared for college."

Griffin could sense something big was about to abrupt from the table. He turned to Ali hastily, squeezing her hand into his, "Al, maybe we can rent our own place or perhaps even stay in your old room?" He smiled politely, as if making any other sort of expression wasn't an option. "If Kristen was promised the barn, then it's not right to take it away from her."

Was this really happening? Someone was on her side, instead of Ali's?

That was new to her. Kristen shot Griffin a discreet grateful look; he returned her the favour by giving her a wink. A glint of relief sailed through Kristen's system, thought it wasn't going to last long, if Ali wanted something, she would get it.

There was an indescribable noise that etched out of Ali's mouth, she was pouting, "but my room isn't big enough for the both of us!"

Everyone at the table glanced at each other, not saying a word. Finally, it was Marsha who spoke up, the woman held a beat-long stare at her only daughter. "Ted and I did promise Kristen she would be allowed to stay in the barn this year." Swiftly, she swiveled her head towards Ali, a look of _pity_ was casted to her niece. "But what you did point out makes sense, Ali." Her mother turned to Ted and Ali, talking loudly, like Kristen wasn't even in the same room, at all. "It does only make sense for Ali to stay in the barn."

Kristen slumped her shoulders; she knew what was inevitably coming next.

"Kris," Ali smiled, a bit mellifluously, "it would be really_ big_ of you, if you could give up the barn. Frankly, it's pretty huge to room for one person."

Right at the moment, Kristen was about to open her mouth, preparing to fire a shot at Ali, about to remind her cousin that she stayed in the barn, _alone_, for years, was the exact moment Marsha intervened.

"Kristmas, Ali does bring up a valid and logical point. The barn provides enough room for two people and it would give Ali and Griffin much needed privacy. You wouldn't want to ruin that." Marsha pointed out. "Couldn't you wait a little longer?" She glanced at Ted for support, "Your old room is fine the way it is, anyways." Her mother leaned over closer, adding and slightly hissing, "Kristen please don't make a _scene._"

"But—!"

Ted coughed loudly. "Listen to your mother, Kristen Michelle." The art dealer displayed a stern expression, "it only seems reasonable."

Tears began to brim around her eyes; the dirty-blonde clenched her fists, and glanced up to see Ali smirking smugly, like always. "Fine," Kristen snapped, "Ali can have the barn. I can wait, until she _leaves_." She added, begrudgingly.

And like that, her family went back at picking at their scrumptious dessert, like nothing had happened. Not caring how small and insignificant they made Kristen felt. The only thing that saved her from bursting into loud sobs was that Griffin mouthed a sincere apology to her, when her family wasn't looking of course.

Now that it was arranged, her parents and Ali discussed how they would hire a construction crew, to fix and spruce the barn up. Ali demanded that the barn should be repainted, the windows replaced, the carpet removed and the door rebuilt. Her cousin also wanted another room added to the barn, which her parents agreed whole-heartedly.

It wasn't fair, the barn was styled the way it was because it was what Kristen _wanted_, all the time wasted into buying the exact furniture and where it was placed, not to forget, the colour scheme was finalized.

_Beep._

She awoke, realizing she had stalled the lane and traffic. The blonde pressed on her gas pedal, zooming through the green light, heading home. Thirteen minutes later, she arrived. As soon as she slammed her car door shut, Kristen noticed a construction member working on exterior of the barn; she scowled, and stomped her way into her house. Once she made her way into her kitchen, the girl placed her purse onto the counter. It was then she noticed a written note from her parents, which was held down by their bowl of apples.

_Kristen, your father and I won't be home until much later. I'm covering the night shifts at the hospital and your father is meeting up with clients. Ali said she's visiting someone and told me Griffin is at class. If you can, try to start dinner!_

Really? No one else was home? This was great.

Her aqua eyes lit up in anticipation, she had the freedom to do anything. Kristen took a glimpse around the house; a thought crossed her mind when she noticed the unoccupied hot tub through the patio kitchen door. Grinning to herself, the blonde dashed up the spiral stairs, and into her room. Frantically she searched through her drawers, until realizing she left most of her clothing in barn's closet and her cutest white bikini from _Anthropologie_.

Sighing, Kristen raced back down the stairs, and threw the kitchen patio doors open, going through that direction was the quickest way to reach the barn. As soon as she reached the front door of the barn, the blonde fumbled to find the keys, once she found it, the dirty-blonde jammed the key into the keyhole, turning to the right, unlocking it.

To her surprise, Kristen noticed that the wall decorations and wall colour weren't changed at all. Huh, maybe she and Ali actually had the same taste in interior design. But that was the only things that were kept the same. As she walked in deeper, all the furniture and floor decorations, Kristen had picked were replaced by Ali's own selected ones. They were all so old-fashioned and rusty looking, not really understanding why her cousin would replace the modern, sleek and some vintage pieces she had placed out. Then again, it was Ali, she was talking about. Walking some more, the blonde felt her heart thumped, she glowered, the majority of her items were already packed in cardboard boxes. Quickly she ripped them opened, noting that none of her clothing were in there. It must have meant that Ali hadn't finished clearing her closet, which brought up a strange point to Kristen. Whoever her cousin was meeting up with, must've been important, Ali was never the type to leave tasks unfinished.

Kristen reached for the door handle, which led to her –now Ali's— room, she flung it open and what she saw, or rather, _who_ she saw made her blush.

"Oh my god!" Kristen felt her mouth drop, she knew she was suppose to turn away, but her body was unable to move, her eyes betraying her as she eyed the person up and down, to the very last detail.

In front of her was Griffin, who was only using a white towel covering himself, hot steam trailed behind him and water droplets dripped down all over his..._chiseled_and _bare _body.

Still unable to move, Kristen stared for a generous amount of time, until her head twitched to side, "I'm sorry."

Griffin looked embarrassed, yet somewhat strangely pleased. "It's okay, it was an accident." He gripped the towel, "It's my fault I should have locked the door."

"I-I I'll give you some time to change." Kristen stuttered, but still managing to make a coherent sentence. While speaking, her eyes lingered on him, never leaving sight of him. She started walking backwards, unaware of the phone book lying on the ground, her foot hit against it, causing her to stumble backwards.

"Geez, are you alright?" Griffin ran next to her; his gray eyes widened with concern, he sat next to her still wearing the towel only. He glanced at her, "are you hurting anywhere?"

"I don't think so," She answered sheepishly. Suddenly pain chilled from her right ankle, the blonde winced. "Actually in my right ankle, I'm starting to feel pain."

He frowned. "That's no good." Griffin bit on his lip as he looked up at her, "is it okay if I examine it?"

Before she could even nod, Griffin peeled off her right black knee-high socks. She noticed how he was examining her ankle thoroughly; Kristen took this time to watch him, in a way, Griffin had a striking resemblance to Harris Fisher. Both had soft black hair, they were tall and had distinctive, piercing eyes, though their colours differed. She wondered if Ali got together with Griffin because he had a canning resemblance to Harris, who Ali dated since sophomore year all the way up to her freshman year of college, until her neighbour broke it off with her cousin.

"Your ankle is starting to turn red and the swelling is accumulating," Griffin said, shaking Kristen out of her thoughts. "Does it hurt if I touch it?"

"A bit."

"If you feel more pain later on and your ankle becomes inflamed, tell me right away, your ankle can worsen." Griffin advised. "From now on, try to rest your foot; don't put too much weight on it. A pack of ice also helps cool down the swelling." He smiled at her, "it's nothing serious, from the looks of it, you may have a grade one sprain. But you're really lucky you didn't injure your patella, otherwise, you wouldn't be able to kick." Griffin grinned widely.

Kristen smiled shyly; she bowed her head down, "thanks."

The guy coughed awkwardly, "no problem, it's my profession anyways."

She giggled, lightly teasing, "So should I be calling you 'Doctor Hastings' instead?"

"In a few years you should." Griffin grinned, bashfully. "I'm still a second year medical student."

This time, Kristen widened her eyes, surprised at what she heard. She tilted her head, laughing, "Oh, I thought you would be a podiatrist." The blonde, batted her eyelashes, but stopped, when realizing she was being too flirty, with her cousin's boyfriend. "Since you're so great with ankles and feet," Kristen said jokingly, or at least hoping she sounded like it.

"Not yet. I still have to write my boards, but honestly, I still don't know what field I want to go in. Right now, I'm leaning towards general surgeon, but things can change." Griffin opened his mouth, about to say some more, until he noticed Kristen cringing, "shit. Is the pain getting worse?"

Weakly nodding her head, Kristen jumped a bit, shocked at how Griffin quickly grabbed her ankle and started to massage it. "W-what are you doing?"

"Massaging, it will help make your ankle feel better."Griffin started moving his fingers upwards, using all his concentration.

As he continued massaging her ankle, silence overpowered the room. Kristen felt uncomfortable with it, she distracted herself by brushing her hair with her fingers, secretly glad it was extra bouncy and wavy today. While Griffin was still massaging, Kristen felt her aqua eyes shifting back and forth, trying her best to look anywhere besides Griffin, but it was difficult.

She couldn't deny it; Griffin was _attractive_. He was also charming, intelligent and very understanding about her family's situation. Suddenly, a feeling rushed in, the blonde found herself wishing she was wearing her white bikini right at this moment. Kristen glanced down, and at the same time, Griffin looked up, their eyes met, a stare that felt like an eternity, but in reality it was only two beats long.

What felt like an electricity jolt, snuck through her body, the blonde felt her heart beat faster, her face heated as Griffin was still massaging her ankle and his body came into contact with hers when he leaned closer. Kristen began combing her hair, making it neater, feeling self-conscious about herself, and how she appeared.

This continued for a few minutes longer, with Griffin massaging and both of them taking small peeks at each other, until a car had nosily pulled up. Usually, Kristen would have dismissed it, however, the instant she heard Ali's voice, her cousin was talking to someone loudly, the blonde panicked.

"Quick!" Kristen gave Griffin a light push, stopping him from continuing on, "get changed!" she demanded, swiping her knee-high sock from the ground. While she was hiking her sock up, Kristen shot him an urgent look, to which Griffin crinkled his nose, confused, nevertheless, followed her orders. Once he stepped out of the bedroom, wearing his attire, the girl hobbled towards him on her left foot. She lost her balance midway and would have face-planted, had it not been for Griffin who caught her on time.

"What's going on, Kristen?" Griffin asked, his voice was calm, yet confused at the same time.

"You have to get out of here."

He blinked. "Why would I?"

Kristen chewed on her lower lip, "It's complicated. The main thing is that try not to let Ali see you when get out of the barn."

"What's the big deal? We weren't doing anything wrong, Ali's my girlfriend."

Sighing, the blonde gripped onto his arms, looking at him squarely in the eyes, "It doesn't make sense now, but it will," She swallowed, "I promise I'll tell you what's going on later, but for now, leave without getting noticed."

There was a long pause, "Okay," he finally said. He marched out of the barn quickly, and when he was out, the girl breathed in relief.

If Ali had came in, and saw what was going on, her cousin would assume the worst. She would probably think Kristen was hitting on Griffin, or maybe even seducing him. There were times, Kristen sometimes suspected her cousin had been wary about her and Harris, and there was no way in hell, she would let that happen again, especially not involving Griffin.

Kristen hobbled into the bedroom, noticing her hands were shaking. She started to do yoga breathes which usually helped her calm down, but today it wasn't doing any justice, probably because Ali almost walked in. It was then she noticed the blinking green light flashing from the Mac computer, Kristen made her way over, remembering that playing games was another way of calming down.

Just as she was about to double click on Firefox, she noticed her inbox icon had a new notification. Hands placed on the mouse, she clicked on it instead, wondering if it was a response e-mail, verifying if she got the internship at the mayor's office, she had applied a few days ago. They had promised they would e-mail her by this week.

She froze; it wasn't from the mayor, but from a blocked e-mail.

Normally, Kristen would have deleted an e-mail that was from an unknown user, since it would be spam or a virus, but something about this particular e-mail intrigued her for some reason, she went ahead and clicked on it.

And when she did, she made the same indescribable noise Ali did at dinner, last night.

**Another boyfriend of Ali's you want? When are you ever going to learn, Kristen? Remember the moment your lips touches his, I'll be spilling your secrets out faster than you can say your haircut isn't ugly! – C**

What. The. _Hell?_

Now, thinking it over, Kristen _really_ wished it was spam or a virus, instead.

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Lisi Harrison owns the Clique and Sara Shepard owns Pretty Little Liars.

***Note: **I changed the time when the girls met Claire, to January of sixth grade. And Claire's disappears at the end of eighth, so basically, the girls were best friends for two and a half years, starting from sixth to the end of eighth. And the time skip, is two years.

I hope you guys understand the messages, if you don't fully get Kristen's (i.e. Haircut, ugly) the saying was the description from the back of the very first book of the Clique. And I hope I still maintained the flashback, the uniform contest, as close as the real thing, because I didn't want to change it, I wanted to stay true to the original.

If you're unsure, patella, means kneecap.

_**Escape to Nowhere:**_ Yes, Mosh will happen, eventually. So for now I hope you enjoy the little scenes, and I hope it cheers you up c:


	6. Misery and Company

_**"I appreciate beauty."**_

-Wren Kingston to Spencer Hastings, in 'The Jenna Thing'

* * *

Taking a long, comforting sip from her favourite green mug, Kristen savoured the taste of the freshly brewed coffee. She leaned back against the kitchen counter, relaxing the best she could, not putting weight on her right ankle, as Griffin advised days ago. With an accidental slight movement of her hands, coffee had dripped onto the ground, splashing all over, in an artistically splattered mess.

Strangely, it had reminded her of what happened on Monday.

Kristen blew forward; steam spread away, her usual, clear, sparkling eyes appeared dull, perplexed, at what happened. Two days ago, right after she had instructed Griffin to leave the barn, she hobbled towards the computer, to play games. But instead, the blonde was intrigued by a new e-mail she had received, and once clicking on it, her world changed.

The e-mail written to her was composed of something she thought she had buried a long time ago; it was one of her darkest secret, a secret none of her friends knew, except for Claire. Kristen began to shudder, memorizing the chilling message word for word, _Another boyfriend of Ali's you want? When are you ever going to learn Kristen? Remember the moment your lips touches his, I'll be spilling your secrets faster than you can say your haircut isn't ugly! —C _It didn't make any sense, who could have known such a thing? No one else could have, only Claire knew, and it was impossible for her friend to send the threat.

_Wasn't it?_

But then that brought up another question, what was the sign signature on the end of the message all about? More importantly who was it from? _C?_ As in _Claire?_ It couldn't be though; her blonde friend was dead, gone from society. The only plausible person Kristen could think of, who _could_ and _would_ have done such a thing, was Claire. After all, the pale-blonde knew what happened between her and Harris, when Kristen had stupidly called the girl to brag about it.

Shaking her head, Kristen tried to forget about that one, specific phone call, but it couldn't be done, forgetting about such incidents was difficult especially when it came to dealing with Claire. Bringing up the past, was a common ritual, it had to be done, forgetting about Claire Lyons was impossible; her best friend was inerasable.

Drilled into her brain, Kristen remembered how Claire sounded disgusted when she told about the kiss, her _supposedly _best friend even went out of her way and stated that she'd was on _Ali's _side.

"Kris, you and I know how much we both can tolerate your cousin, _but_," There was a short pause over the phone, "I think this time you went too _far_."

"What?" Kristen snapped, surprised and disappointed to hear what was coming out of her friend's mouth, she quickly peeked through her blinds, just to catch a glimpse of Harris. He wasn't there. "I may have initiated the first kiss, but on the second one, Harris was really into it. You should have seen his face! He was grinning ear to ear."

"_Sweetie_," Claire said slowly, "Harris was probably laughing at you, not grinning. I mean, let's be realistic, you're a little girl, you probably kissed him wrong."

Kristen began to grip on the phone handle angrily, she threw herself on her bed, hoping the softness would calm her emotions, "He wasn't laughing, he was grinning. And how am I a little girl? We're the same age!"

"_Maturity_ is what differentiates us, Kris." Claire scoffed coolly, there was a loud breathing noise coming from her end, "I can't believe what you did, she may be stuck-up, but Harris is still Ali's boyfriend. That was wrong of you, Kristen."

Irritated, Kristen got off her bed and began pacing around her bedroom, with the cordless phone stuck to her ear. "It takes two to kiss, Claire."

"You just said that you were the one who initiated the kiss!" Claire's sweet voice had rise, there was anger in it, her voice, sharp, "that's pretty skanky of you, if you keep doing what you're doing, you'll turn into a huge _whore_."

Fury had swirled through Kristen's stomach, "_Skanky_? A _whore_? It was one kiss, I didn't like _do it_ with him." The dirty-blonde went quiet, and at that moment, despite talking to Claire through the telephone, she could feel her friend fuming. Kristen bit on her lip hard, and spat loudly, "You're just jealous, that I got to kiss Harris first, I already know how much you wanted to kiss him, I saw that he was on the top of your list of boys to kiss."

"_What?_ I do _not_—"

Kristen smiled to herself, loving the tone of agitation in Claire's voice, "Oh and I forgot to tell you," She bragged, "Harris also told me that I'm a better kisser and prettier than Ali, so you can keep all your conspiracies to yourself."

A vicious laugh came out from the other line, "He's lying to you. There's no way Harris would say that."

"Like I said you're just _jealous_, Claire."

"I'm _not _jealous, Kristen." Claire snarled nastily, her tone of voice changed drastically, becoming darker and sinister, "why would I be? You're just some blonde nobody who wouldn't have been noticed if it wasn't for me. Besides, _me_ and—"

_Click._

She didn't hear the rest of the sentence, because Kristen remembered at that point she was fed up with Claire's attitude and hung up.

Sighing, she wondered what Claire was about to say; maybe it was crucial information that could help solve this stupid 'C' thing.

This was one time in her life Kristen didn't have an answer to a question.

Once more, she gazed downwards, studying the coffee mess, wondering why out of the blue, the e-mail was sent to her. Then again, maybe she wasn't alone, perhaps even Massie, Dylan and Alicia received something similar, but with their _own_ secrets. It was a possible idea, but how could she approach her old friends and talk about this? She couldn't just start a conversation saying something like, 'Hey guys! Haven't talked too you for over two years. By the way, did you guys get any sort message from a person named C, who's blackmailing you with a secret?' That would be awkward; the four of them haven't spoken to one another, genuinely. Besides, it wasn't like her to jump to conclusions, there had to be a _logical _explanation for this.

"You're up early."

Incoming thoughts broke; the blonde glanced upwards, seeing Griffin across from her, wearing his light blue pyjamas. Kristen bit on her lips, to keep her smile hidden, the style of his pyjamas looked ridiculous, but somehow, with Griffin sporting it, he made it look good, he _looked_ good. The blonde bit down harder, quite in awe at what went through her mind. She was probably thinking too hard.

Kristen took another long sip before answering him, "Yeah, I like to be up before everyone else. It's a habit."

Griffin made his way over, grabbing a mug from the dishwasher rack. He slid his glass under the automatic coffee machine, pressing the button, for the liquid to fill. He smiled, turning to her, "really? Is it your own habit? Or is it the so-called Gregory's' habit?" The medical student chuckled, "I know I only been here for four days, but I can tell what the ideals and values are, for your family."

A shy grin flitted on her face, "its mines." The girl began to blink rapidly at him, "I like to get up early, the silence relaxes me."

He nodded, taking in what she had said carefully. Griffin reached for his filled mug, "How's your ankle?"

"There's still some pain, but it's not bad as before."

With his free arm, Griffin extended it to her, gesturing to the kitchen table. "Come on, sitting will help relax the muscle joints."

Being stubborn as she was, Kristen shook her head politely. "No I'm fine. I don't need your help; I can walk on my own."

He didn't back down.

Instead, Griffin smirked, "Apparently, you don't know how_ stubborn _I can be." In one swift motion, he grabbed her hand, once he did; he transitioned his hand down to her tiny waist, making it easier for him to support her.

Kristen was so surprised by his action, that she didn't (and couldn't) protest. As they settled down on the chairs, the blonde shot him a sheepish look, "thanks," She watched him smile shyly in response. The blonde leaned forward, curious, "Why are you in this kitchen? The barn _does_ have its own kitchen and coffee maker."

An eyebrow of his, rose, Griffin placed the cup down. "Ali's a light sleeper; I didn't want to wake her up because of my noisiness. Plus, I wanted to see." He paused for a quiet minute, "I wanted to see how this kitchen is built."

"The kitchen?" Kristen broke into snickers, "that's a first. I never heard a guest saying they wanted to explore our kitchen suite in great detail."

Not responding right away, he reached over the table, swiping a biscotti, out of the crystal plate that was beside the newspaper. After crumpling the treat down to pieces, Griffin looked up. "My mother was an architect, so I like looking at rooms and buildings that resembles beauty." He snickered as well, copying her from before, "It's a habit." Griffin nibbled his lips, his laughter died down, "About the barn, _sorry_." His voice trailed off, "I'm sorry for moving into the barn, it wasn't fair to you."

She didn't know what to do, except shrug, "It's not your fault." Kristen began to place her hands over her lime green mug, feeling the warmth of the steam. "In this household, fairness doesn't apply to anyone, the only concern here, is being number one."

It appeared Griffin was about to say more, but stopped himself, as Marsha entered the room.

The older woman emerged in the room, surprised, at it being already occupied. "I didn't expect to have company so soon." Marsha sat next to Griffin. The older blonde reached for the newspaper, and flipped through it, only to put it back in its original place. She turned to her niece's boyfriend, "Are you adjusting to the Gregory's residence nicely?"

Griffin pulled his cup away, smiling sincerely at Marsha, "Yes, very much so." He peeked at Kristen with the corner of his right eye, "I was just telling Kristen something like that."

Marsha gave a curt nod, "That's good." The older blonde then abruptly swivelled her head to her daughter, focusing on her, "And what will _you _be doing today?"

The blonde opened her mouth, "I'll be—"

"Hold on," Marsha held her palms up, cutting her daughter off. Her dried lips curled into a wide smile, "why don't we play C_allivation_, instead? It's the perfect opportunity."

"_Cali-vation?_" Griffin looked very confused; he glanced at Kristen, who shot him a 'just-go-with-it' wave. "I'm sorry, I'm not following."

A grim expression flashed onto Marsha's face for a split second, "It's _Callivation_, dear. A game that Ted and I made up from deriving the words to _call on_ and_motivation_." Marsha began to fold the napkin in front of her, in half. "It's a fun game that you'll enjoy."

Kristen sniggered loudly, wondering what her mother's definition of fun really was. She twisted to Griffin, "Yeah, it's _real_ _fun_, along with the other games we play." She was about to comment, only to be caught off guard, at hearing Griffin laughing genuinely over her remark, which he then covered it up with a hacking cough. Her heart beat skipped, Kristen shot him a grin; so far, Griffin was the only person who picked up her sarcasm about her family's so-called 'games'.

"I'll go first." Marsha announced. "As an accomplished ER Nurse, today, I will be heading down to Westchester College and give a lecture of the fundamentals of being an ER Nurse." The older woman brushed her hair back, "My motivation is driven by the fact that I have the privilege of sharing and teaching students vital information, enriching them more knowledge in my field," Marsha stared at them expectedly, "care to share, you two?"

"Uh," Griffin stammered. Kristen pretended to be fascinated by her coffee.

"I'll go, if they won't." A high-pitched voice filled the room; it was Ali. She came around, giving Marsha a hug and pecked Griffin on the cheeks. "You're up early, Griffin." Her ash-blonde eyebrows twitched, when finally noticing Kristen. Ali feigned a smile "Didn't see you there, cousin." She grabbed a chair and wedged it between Griffin and Kristen, forcing the two to move away from another.

Comfortably on her seat, Ali beamed at her Aunt. "Can I go?"

Marsha nodded her head enthusiastically, "of course! You can demonstrate to these two how it's done."

"Well," Ali said superiorly, she folded her hands, "despite already being _accepted_ a year early into one of the most _prestigious_ business school in the world, I decided to take some elective courses back in NYU." Grinning confidently and boastfully, she continued. "I will be taking Sociology, Anthropology and Calculus. By taking these courses, I will have a better understanding of the society, get a better perspective of other cultures of the world, and my mathematical skills will sharpen. All of these courses will help aid me for future work."

"Excellent, Ali," Marsha said delightfully, her voice then turned demanding. "Kristen, you go next."

Her mind blanked, too preoccupied by _C_. "I- I will be..." Kristen grimaced, sounding unsure, "scoring goals, as team captain of the Sirens."

Marsha looked unimpressed. "That's _it_? What is your motivation?"

"Shouldn't you be saying you'll be scoring the _most _goals?" Ali chimed in; she was cringing at everything Kristen was saying. "You'll have to, if you want to be a_Soccer Sister_."

Griffin, who was silent up until now, leaned forward, appearing even more confused, "what exactly is a _Soccer Sister_?"

Facing him, Ali, widened her cobalt blue eyes, "It's the _best _female travelling soccer team. The players have to be perfect, driven and excel not just at one position, but _all _of them." A smug expression was painted on her face, "I got in, when I was a _freshman_ in high school, and the coach told me I was _the_ youngest player to become one." Ali fluttered her eyelashes, her lips turned into a forced pout, "you'll get in soon, Kris, there's really no age limit after all."

Kristen ignored her cousin's jab. "I will get in," The blonde glanced at her mother, "Lauren told me that I'm the highest goal scorer on the team."

"Yes, but that's only in _your_ school." Marsha replied bitterly, setting a grating atmosphere in the room, "have you thought about the _other_ schools? The_ state_? The_country_? You can't only be the best in your school; you have to _be_ the best, like Ali. Don't try to drag the Gregory name—."

Out of nowhere, Griffin snapped his fingers, "I really don't want to interrupt, Marsha, _but_," His smile was huge and playful, "I think I finally understand how to play_Callivation_." He cleared his throat, all eyes were on him, "today I will go to class early and my motivation is due to the fact that I want to get the best seat."

_Ridiculous._

Griffin's answer was so ridiculous, yet, light-felt, it made Kristen relax, easing from all the tension, she burst into giggles and he did the same. As they giggled, Marsha's face hardened, the woman twisted her head to Ali, silently demanding for an explanation.

"He's joking, Auntie."

Marsha opened her mouth, but stopped. She got up, shooting disappointed looks towards Kristen and Griffin. "I expect better answers later."

Seconds later, Ali stood up, she grabbed Griffin's arm, vaguely hissing, "What was _that_? You know my Aunt expects the best from the both of us." Her eyes shaded in dissatisfaction; she tugged on his arms, until Griffin reluctantly got up. Once he did, Ali dragged him out of the room, though not before Griffin swirled around, giving Kristen a wink.

Alone, Kristen grinned over what Griffin did, it was sweet of him.

As their footsteps became faint, she gazed at the stove clock; she still had minutes to spare. Stretching forward, she swiped the newspaper and flipped through the pages, to find the crossword and Sudoku section. Kristen frowned, it wasn't there. That was strange; it was always there, along with the horoscopes, and daily written problems, asking for advice. She shrugged, assuming someone had misplaced it.

Finishing her coffee, Kristen reached the napkin her mother had folded, wiping her lips clean. She stood, walking towards the kitchen sink, placing the mug and then pressed the foot lever for the garbage can, throwing the used napkin away. Before letting go, the blonde did a double take; sections of the newspaper were at the bottom, crumpled. Swooping down, she grabbed them, finding the section she wanted, maybe her father had thrown it away accidently; he did have an early golf trip.

At times, her family threw the paper everywhere if there wasn't any important news. That would have made sense, until she flipped to the very front, reading the headline.

"_No_," She whispered.

**LOCAL WESTCHESTER RESIDENT COMES BACK, SETTING AN EXAMPLE OF INSPIRATION, DESPITE THE HORRIBLE TRAGEDY.**

**Almost four years ago, Ripple Baxter's life had changed. In a freak accident, Baxter became blind after what ****_seemed_**** to be a firework commotion had been set off in their house. Baxter's step-brother, Dune Baxter, was the prime suspect. Ripple enrolled into Lady Athena's School for the Blind and Death, is now to attend Westchester Day High. Surprisingly, in a turn of events, Ripple has come to new revelations, see the interview below:**

**Westchester Times: **So, are you saying after four years, you believe, your step-brother is not guilty?

**Ripple Baxter:** Yes, part of me does. I just can't fathom that Dune would do such a thing. We're close; we tell and do everything with each other.

**Westchester Times: **What made you come to this conclusion?

**Ripple Baxter:** Well, realistically, it's hard for one person to set all those fire crackers and then have enough time to run away. It only makes sense that more people were involved. Truthfully, I didn't get along with many people, that might be a motive right there. But, Dune, he was always there for me.

**Westchester Times: **If there are others involved, what would you say to them?

**Ripple Baxter: **Whoever you are, I hope your guilt eats you away. People can lie for so long, but the truth has to come out sometime.

**Extended interview on A3, read why the Baxter's are coming back to West—**

Kristen paled.

This couldn't be true. Both Baxter's were coming back?

There just had to be a logical explanation for this, there just _had_ to be. There was no way this was true, there was no way the message or C was real. This had to be some stupid prank that had gone haywire.

The girl began limping towards the front door with the paper in hand, about to leave for school, to forget this situation for now; she didn't have time to think about this at school.

But, she was wrong; her Samsung chimed right on cue.

Shakily, Kristen pressed 'read.'

**Guess you read the news! You better start telling what really happened, Kris, like a certain someone said, the truth has to come out sometime. If you don't, all your dirty secrets will be exposed in a flash, like fireworks going off! – C**

**[...]**

When it came to organizing tiny spaces, like a jewellery box or, in this case, her locker, it was a thing Alicia excelled at, besides dancing. Maybe it was more of the fact that she loved and needed to know where everything was, she wasn't like this before, but definitely hanging out with Kristen, from all those years, really influenced the Latina. So, right after first period, and during break, the Spanish girl decided to do the very thing, organizing her locker.

Despite, being only the Wednesday of the first week, textbooks, books and paper material were already heavily distributed to students in each class.

Alicia reached for her biology textbook that was tucked into her large hobo bag, just as she was about to align it right next to her other books, the cover flapped opened, giving away a single sheet of paper onto the ground.

Hurriedly, she crouched down, before anyone could step on it, forgetting why she placed a random piece of paper in her textbook in the first place. But once retrieving the sheet and turning it over, the Latina blushed, red, remembering why it was stuffed in the book.

It was the note from two days ago.

The note she quickly slipped into her textbook before entirely heading into fourth period, the note that was specifically for her, the note that mentioned her secret and the note that was from a person called C.

Paper in hand, the Spanish girl scrunched it. She had thought about the message since Monday, losing valuable sleep over it, thinking how it was exactly buried in Olivia's yard and how, whoever it was, was able to know her long-kept secret.

Who could have done it?

Her lips went dry went she did thought about it, could it have been…._Claire_? If it was, Alicia felt her heart leap with joy, her best friend wasn't dead, but if the blonde was still alive, why on earth was she trying to expose the Latina's secret?

Alicia raised and threw her hair back, scanning side to side, no one was near her. Slowly, she unravelled the note, reading it over for what felt like the millionth time.

**Hey Leesh! I guess I'm not the only friend you want to kiss. Mwah! – C**

She felt her eyes darting back and forth, manically, searching the paper the rumpled paper from corner to corner, inch by inch, to find any hint, clue or evidence, to see who the culprit was. Having a father as a Lawyer had its benefits. Len had taught her to read things carefully, sometimes, the obvious was there, but for it to be found, things had to search thoroughly and cautiously. The Latina resumed her focus on the note; she didn't hear the footsteps behind her.

"_Gotcha ya!_"

Alicia gasped loudly, spooked. A pair of muscular arms wrapped around her waist. She shoved the note in, and slammed her locker door shut.

After somewhat calming down, she swivelled around, it was Connor. Alicia took a step back away from him, acting as casual as she could. "Connor!" She exhaled, heavily, "you scared me to death."

He grinned, letting his arms drop freely, "That was the point." Smoothly, he pecked her on the cheeks, buttering up to her, "what were you doing just now?" Connor flicked her glossy hair, playfully. "You look like you were really into reading something."

Nerves arise, she swallowed anxiously; Alicia backed away more, until her back was against the lockers. She studied his face, wondering if Connor had seen the note, or worse, read it over her shoulders. The Latina knew she was tall compare to some, but, Connor was taller, way taller than her. He could have easily read the note, overhead, when he came from behind.

Just thinking about the possibility of him reading the note, was downright awful. Connor was smart, he could easily depicted the note quickly and would eventually put the pieces together, realizing that she had kissed Claire, and her boyfriend would have known she had kissed _another_ girl, though, he wouldn't have known who it was. And Alicia preferred it that way.

She pinched herself on the thigh, forcing herself to look straight into his olive-green eyes. He was smiling at her, brightly. Yet, Alicia couldn't help but think that Connor had seen the note. And if he did, maybe that sealed his rising suspicions about..._her_.

Midway through their relationship, the Latina always assumed in the back of her mind, that Connor knew she had a thing...for _girls_, specifically, for _Claire_. He always had an attitude when she reminisced about the blonde, and at times, his face contorted into an expression, an expression which definitely was not happiness. Even if he did have suspected about her, Connor was not the first to suspect it.

Really, it was Claire who had known all along.

Despite, kissing Claire months before the final sleepover, the blonde had already suspected that Alicia liked girls, that she was gay. She remembered how Claire would mercilessly tease her about girls in the seventh grade, right in front of their friends, even to the point, where Claire purposely called her 'Lez', instead of Leesh.

Alicia chewed on her lip, until most of her lipstick faded.

What was she thinking?

She _wasn't _gay, she _didn't _like girls. She couldn't anyways; she _was_ Alicia Louise Rivera, the pride and joy of her parents, Len and Nadia Rivera, their one and only perfect daughter.

So what if she preferred Vanessa Hudgens over Zac Efron? So what if she watched the _Harry Potter_ movies just to see Emma Watson? So what she didn't check out guys with her friends at the mall or the beach? It didn't mean anything. It was just mere coincidence. Anyways, Alicia just found herself to be at ease with girls than guys. _That was it and that was all_.

And besides, she really, really_ liked_ Connor, liked him _more_ than a friend, and they were going to celebrate their six month anniversary of being together soon, so it was unbelievable that she would be interested in girls.

..._Right?_

"—isn't that great, Alicia?"

"What?" The girl blinked, obviously at a loss in what Connor was talking about. But clearly, he had moved on from being interested in what she was reading.

Connor gave her a look; nevertheless, he broke into a huge smile. "I said, my parents will be out for hours, so we will have my house, alone and together." He grabbed her hands, and then slithered them down to her waist, pushing her body, until it came into contact with his, roughly. "So, isn't that great?"

Uncomfortable, the Spanish girl pursed her lips, thinking of a believable excuse on the spot. "Actually," Alicia pushed his arms away, she lowered her head. "I can't, I'm busy. My mom, uh, she wants me to go home and help file some documents away. It's for my dad, his work."

A minute passed by before she even heard a noise coming out from him.

Connor huffed, extremely annoyed. He rolled his eyes, immediately stepping away from her. His lips turned into a flat line. "Of _course_," he snipped, "you're always busy, when we finally have free time." The guy stared at her, his eyebrows fixed into a glare, "do you not like me, Alicia?"

"Of course I do! I just—"

"—You _just_ _what?_" Connor growled, "Every time when I want to spend time with you, you always have an excuse. You're _pushing _me away; do want to break up with me? Is that it?"

"It's not like that." Alicia said timidly, "I'm...I'm not... _ready_."

"_Ready?_" And then a flicker of realization was all over Connor's face, his expression softened. "Alicia, I wouldn't force you to do something, you wouldn't want to do. I'm not that kind of guy."

Alicia felt her face warm up, with guilt. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to think of you that way. You're my first real relationship."

He smiled at her, "Do you still think you can weasel your way out in helping with filing?"

"I don't know."

Connor didn't back down. "Come on, you can try. And then we can spend time alone, for _once_."

Before she could answer him, with another lie, a voice shrilled towards them.

"Alicia!"

They spun around, and right there, was Olivia.

The Latina wore a big smile, relieved. She twisted her entire body around, away from Connor's, facing Olivia's. "Hey, I didn't see you this morning."

"I was helping this girl; she was lost in finding her class." The blonde went up to them, she tugged on Alicia's pink knit cap, "this colour really suits you, it's cute and adorable."

Alicia blushed. "Thanks."

The bubbly blonde was about to go on, until she noticed Connor staring at her. She thrust her hand in front of him, giggling, "Hey I'm Olivia Ryan, and I'm assuming you're Connor Foley?"

There was no hand movement coming from him, instead, Connor kept staring, like he was studying Olivia. Finally, after a few seconds, he squeezed her hand, "yeah that's right, Connor Foley."

"Alicia told me about you."

"Did she now?"

"Uh-huh." Olivia nodded. Her navy blue eyes diverted away from Connor, she glanced at Alicia. Her smile seemed apologetic. "I should leave you guys alone."

As Olivia's heels were turning, Alicia pursed her lips out. "Olivia, wait. I'm going your way."

Connor gazed downwards, shocked. "But I _always_ walk you to second period."

"You can do that anytime," Alicia dismissed, she strode forward, only to be pulled back by Connor. "What is it?" She asked, beginning to feel annoyed.

"You didn't give me an answer. Are you coming over after school?"

The Spanish girl opened her mouth, only to be drowned out by Olivia's voice.

"Hurry, Alicia!"

She shrugged, "I don't want her to wait for me. I'll tell you later." And like that, Alicia headed off where Olivia was, not looking back to see Connor's reaction.

Once they were far down the hall, Olivia twirled to Alicia, "You know, you're boyfriend is really hot."

Alicia made a face, "Thanks?" She rolled her shoulders, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised, most girls come up to me and tell me that."

The blonde twisted back then faced forward. "He does seem _familiar_ though. I feel like I've seen Connor somewhere before."

"Really?" Alicia widened her eyes, "from where?"

"I can't say. I just feel like I seen him before I met him today."

The raven-haired girl giggled slightly, "That's probably because he posted flyers about himself, to promote the acting club." She began scanning the bulletin boards, and spotted a poster. Alicia pointed at it, proving her point, "See? Like right there."

"Maybe," the blonde didn't look too convinced. "Has he ever acted professionally?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Besides, he would he told me, by now."

Olivia cocked her head to the side, her curls bounced, "Would he?" She bit on her lip, "I was close to someone before, and I thought they shared me everything about them, like I did with them." The girl nibbled on her lips some more, "people can surprise you."

Alicia didn't know what to add to the conversation, but strangely, she found herself quite interested in what Olivia had said.

"Whatever, though." The blonde girl smiled cheerfully, moving away from the topic. She moved her body, and swung her arms gracefully, accidently making their arms brush against each other. "Let's just go to class."

"Yeah," The Latina agreed.

And as they walked down further, Alicia relaxed for the first time for the day. Not worrying about the note and what Connor's reaction was like, when she walked down with Olivia, instead of him. The feeling, being relaxed, it was _nice_.

Despite telling Connor, she would tell what her answer was later, she already picked one.

And that answer was _Olivia._

**[...]**

The moment their lips touched, locked and fitted perfectly like a puzzle, Dylan melted in pure _ecstasy_. It was official, after talking thoroughly by phone, Dylan and Dempsey got back together on Monday evening. Even though it was only Wednesday, the redhead felt that their mini breakup happened eons ago. She was happy,_truly_.

There should have been nothing that could change this feeling, to take away this moment from, except, in the back of the redhead's mind, there _was_, and it came in a package of a particular message.

She sulked, the _message_, that one little, _stupid _message.

Where the hell did it come from? Actually the question should have been _who_ did it come from? And how did the person retrieve the security camera's tape from_Dolce & Gabbana's_? And why did the message end with 'C'? Did it mean it was from Claire?

Numerous times, did that possibility popup, but every time Dylan thought about it, she pushed it out. In fact, she tried her best to push that whole message out of her mind; she didn't have time to think about that. It was taking too much of her time, yet, it was justifiable, the message did contain evidence of her addictive stealing habit, her _secret_.

Once they pulled apart, Dempsey noticed her being wary. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, cupping it, "what's wrong, Dyl? You're way out of it, today."

Dylan closed her eyes for a brief second, and shook her head, as if she could shake out her worries over the message. "Nothing's wrong." She showed him her Cheshire-like grin, acting like there really wasn't anything wrong, when in truth, there was. "I didn't sleep that well, yesterday."

"You didn't get your proper beauty sleep?" Dempsey joked.

"Ha, _funny_."

He pulled her in closer. "You still look beautiful to me." He leaned down, kissing her on the lips, again.

As they parted, a figure stood behind them, Layne.

"Aw, look at the happy couple." The brunette cooed. "It's like you guys never broke up in the first place." She walked confidently, until she stood right beside Dylan, "I have to ask you something."

The redhead beamed at her best friend, secretly glad her mind would be filled with other things, besides the message, "sure, fire away."

"_Privately_," Layne shot Dempsey an urgent look, her lips stiffened. "No offense, Demps, but I'd rather you leave, like, _now_."

"Layne!"

Dempsey shrugged carelessly, as if he understood what Layne was getting at. "S'okay, Dyl." He hiked the strap of messenger bag higher, and grinned at her, "I'll see you later."

Dylan nudged the brunette in the ribs, once he left. "Well? What is it? What did you want to ask?"

"More on that later," Layne waved her off, her dark eyebrows crinkled, "you never replied back to me."

"Replied?" The redhead made a face; she grabbed a section of her curled strands, playing with it. "What are you talking about? I answered all of your texts."

"Not my _texts_." The quirky girl sighed dramatically. She unfolded her arms, creating a different stance, "my _message_. The one I wrote to you on Facebook. You know? The one I sent you on Monday?"

And at that moment, Dylan felt the world stand still.

Suddenly, the noisiness from her surroundings became silent. Her ears buzzed, the only noise she had heard was a single pin dropping, sounding like it was tapping away.

Stomach plummeting, eyes widening, face paling, lips dried, it took a minute for Dylan to register what Layne had said.

"It was _you_?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Layne gave her a crazy look. "Of course it was me! I promised that I would check up on you, except, instead of sending you a text, I sent it on Facebook." She rolled her teal-coloured eyes, "just as I was composing a text, my phone died. I swear I should jump off the iPhone bandwagon and get a new cell."

A lump clogged her throat, processing all of this. It wasn't until Dylan bit the insides of her cheeks, hard enough to make it bleed, did she manage to find her voice. "Why would you do _that_?" Her voice came out harsher than she expected, louder, too.

The brunette shot her an even crazier look, if that was possible. "Because I promised I would. To cheer you up after Dempsey had dumped you. Remember?"

Dylan grinded her teeth, anger had raised, but then confusion took over, "I thought we _were_ friends, Layne. _Best _friends."

"We are." Layne looked absolutely puzzled. She tilted her head, "are you sure you got my message? Maybe you should read it one more time."

"I've already read it." The girl scoffed.

"Well, read it again."

A beat past, before Dylan had stubbornly fished for her phone. She logged onto Facebook, and then noticed the red message icon. Clicking on it, colour returned to her face. Layne _did_, send her a message, but it wasn't the message Dylan thought it was.

_**Layne:**__ Hey Dyl, sorry it's not by text, my phone died. Screw Dempsey, he isn't worth it, if he has to break up with you over something like that. Meet at Lily's CupCakery tonight, to talk?_

Why hadn't she noticed this message?

Quickly she checked the time it was sent, the message Layne had sent was the exact same time, she received the message and video clip from C.

"Layne..." Dylan's voice trailed off, feeling stupid and guilty over accusing her friend. "I'm sorry, I thought it was...," She stopped herself, "I'm sorry."

"What did you think I sent you?" Layne asked, she appeared quite amused, about all of this. She smirked, "I've never seen you this _mad_, before."

At that moment, the redhead considered telling Layne what was really going on, but decided against it, "It's nothing," Dylan said sheepishly, playing it off.

"Are you sure?" Her best friend sounded concerned. "Is it about your dad?"

"My dad?"

"Yeah," Layne nodded expectantly, "about his marriage to Anna. That's what I wanted to ask you about." Her deep brown hair moved as she flipped it off her shoulders, "I could tell something was up from the way you reacted yesterday, when we were discussing about him."

Dylan did her best to muster a smile; Layne was always so good at figuring her out. It was true though; part of her attitude was about her dad's upcoming marriage and slightly about her mother's emotionless reaction. But it was mostly about the note from C, not that she was going to tell Layne about it, well, not now, only until she'd figure it out and get to the bottom of it.

Before Dylan had a chance to speak, the brunette grabbed the redhead's arm, linking them together. "You know what? Forget about it; let's not talk about your dad. I'm going to buy you the most delicious cupcakes at Lily's to forget about all your worries." Layne squeezed tighter, "and don't worry we'll be back before fourth period starts."

The redhead grinned, agreeing.

They made a sharp turn at the left corner, giggling.

More warmth rushed through her system, Dylan finally smiled, but it dropped when she heard the same tapping noise she heard a few minutes ago. She turned her head, wondering where it was coming from. It made the same consecutive noise.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

She shrugged it off, and eyed the door when it was in sight, there should have been no commotion, except, the two of them nearly tripped over a metal rod-like object.

"Watch were you're going," Layne said haughtily, as she caught her balance. She flipped the bird without getting a view at whoever had mistakenly caused them to almost fall over.

Dylan snickered along, condescendingly, not bothering to check who it was either. "Yeah, we're going to be late, so _move _it."

A quiet, soft voice spoke up, "I'm sorry. I didn't see you guys, there."

They both burst out laughing, "It's not that hard to miss us," Layne retorted icily.

"_Seriously_," Dylan snapped, irritated.

The brunette tugged on Dylan's arm harder, signaling to leave quickly, the two of them left in a hurry that they didn't hear another voice, talking.

"She can't see because _you_ blinded her."

**[...]**

"Nine-point-seven," Massie said to herself, as she glanced at her own reflection from the mirror she hammered in her locker.

She was always like this, rating her outfit, her makeup, her hair, from a number of one to ten, with ten being the highest. It wasn't like a game to her; it was more of a_reassurance_, a boost of _confidence_ to say. And today she needed that confidence more than anything to speak to Derrick—er, _Mr. Harrington_, about what happened on Monday.

She gulped, it shouldn't be this hard. After all, she had no problem chatting to him about the wondrous of the world, the richness of other cultures, the tranquillity of nature, the beauty of art and the resilience of literature, at Hollis. But then that all changed, when Derrick was assigned as her English teacher.

Who would have thought that would happen?

While he did mention he was going to teach for his very first time, the brunette didn't think he was talking about teaching at Westchester Day.

And yet, seeing Derrick stand in front of the room blubbering the most idiotic and blundering excuse she had heard at why, he swore—"I forgot to feed my plants!"—his excuse, nor him being her teacher wasn't the worse part of her life so far, it was actually the text she got, during class.

The text that had stated the person knew about William's affair and how they knew she hooked up with Derrick.

How could anyone know that?

In the bar, there was hardly anyone in there, from what she knew, nobody could pull off a fake ID like hers, so who could have known and seen them together?

Discreetly, she pulled out her phone, reading the text again.

**A student-teacher relationship? Yummy. He may be new to teaching, but something tells me he learned from the best! Just ask Daddy! – C**

The only good thing that she could say was this was the _only_ text she got from 'C.'

Massie sucked in a breath, dropping her phone back into her purse. When she first read the text, there was no hesitation in her mind that 'C', _was_ Claire. It had to be, the blonde was the only who knew about the affair and had actually witnessed William and Abby, kissing each other, when the two of them had stumbled on them accidently.

The only thing that bothered her in assuring that C was Claire, was how the hell would Claire know about the hookup with Derrick?

Despite taking a long time to accept the fact, Claire was _dead_. After all, it was confirmed by the police two years ago. There was no way she could come back alive.

_Or was there?_

Her body was never found, besides that, there were no solid evidence, no bones, flesh or any prints of DNA, which indicated the blonde was gone. It was like Claire had mysteriously vanished from the face of the earth.

Maybe her spirit was reincarnated into something; maybe, Claire had come back as a ghost.

There was a possibility—for _anything_.

She sighed, and trudged forward, whatever, she would deal with the text later; her main priority was to talk to Derrick.

As she glided her way through the hallways, coming closer to his office, the insides of her Kate Spade tote vibrated. Massie paused, her hand hovering of her purse, she swallowed anxiously, perhaps she had spoken too soon.

Carefully flicking her phone up, the brunette breathed easily, it was only a text from William.

**William: **Just wanted to check up on you again, kiddo. You okay?

Snapping her phone shut, Massie threw her cell back in the tote, not bothering to reply back. It was his third time messaging her today. Really, while William probably thought he was being protective, the brunette thought it was bothersome. He had been texting her today because on Monday afternoon, Massie had hypothetically asked him about a receiving text from a person who wasn't in the world anymore. That very conversation with her father brought up the point of ghosts.

She took another step forward, dispersing her current thoughts. Jutting her head up, the brunette realized she was at her destination, Derrick's office.

Right as she was about to knock on the door, the door opened widely. Whoever came out collided with her.

"Oh!" It was Josh Hotz. Without a thought, he pulled her up gently by the arms. "Sorry about that England, I'm in a rush right now."

He said everything so fast; she didn't catch what he had mostly said, except the 'England' part, the stupid, dreaded nickname he gave her, since they bumped into another.

Massie patted her animal print dress, making a face at him, which he didn't notice because the next thing the Latino was doing was chatting nonstop. It was only until Derrick stepped out of his office, clearing his throat, did Josh stop. "Shouldn't you be at practice right now, Mr. Hotz?"

Josh nodded. "Right," he lifted his arm up, waving at the both them, "I'll see you. And England, come watch the next practice."

Once Josh was a tiny speck, Derrick crossed his arms, glancing at her. His eyebrows rose, his mouth twisted into a teasing smile, making him look adorable, "_England?_"

Her cheeks tinted pink, embarrassed. "That's not important." Massie gazed at her surroundings, checking to see if there was anybody around them. Her heart pounded against the walls of her chest, recognizing that they were the only ones. "We need to talk."

Derrick blinked at her, "I know." He led her in first, before closing the door behind them. He gestured to her before entirely marching to his leather chair. He plopped down. "Take a seat."

"Its fine," Massie took a deep breath, "look about Monday, I didn't think you would be teaching, well, _me_."

"But I told you I was teaching English." He countered. "You didn't tell me your real age."

"You _assumed_."

"You _implied_."

Massie placed her palms on the surface of his desk, her eyebrows angled in such a manner, letting him know she was being coy. "You never asked me my real age."

Derrick sighed, "Still, you shouldn't have implied that you were older than you really are." He gazed at her in silence, in deep thought.

"Derrick," She said softly, unable to withstand the awkward silence swirling around them, "Even with the given circumstances between us, it doesn't change my opinion about you at all." Massie reached over, clasping his hands into hers, her face flushed a rosy pink, matching the colour of her lips. "You're unique, you're different from other guys, and that's what I like about you."

He was stoic, seemingly unmoved by her words.

Massie felt her face fall; she removed her hands from his. Her eyes adverted downwards, unable to face him. She began to shift her heels and did what she was best at: _running away_.

Much to her surprise, Derrick grasped her fingers. The brunette turned, astonished.

"I really like you too, Massie." Derrick said quietly, he seemed flustered. "When we talked to each other, the whole time I was thinking, how you unique you were too. I noticed the poetic flare you carry around." He smiled, pushing his blonde hair away from his face, "I never met a girl like you before." Then, his smile faltered. "But things between us can't happen. I'm your teacher, a professional and you're my student. We would cause complicated problems and I don't want that to happen."

"_Derrick_—."

"It's the best for us." He interrupted. Derrick released his grip and directed his attention to the papers that were on his desk. "You should go now, Massie."

She stared at him, dumbfounded, yet did what she was told. The moment the brunette stepped out, she heard a familiar girl's laugh. Massie froze, had someone heard their entire conversation?

Her breaths steady, when she realized who the laugh had come from, Kristen. In fact, her ex-friend was laughing her signature phlegm laugh, despite whoever the dirty-blonde was once talking to, had left.

"Kristen!"

Kristen looked up; her face broke into a smile, "_Massie?_" The blonde opened her mouth to speak, yet clamped up, when she swivelled around, Massie turned as well.

Dylan was now approaching to where they were. The redhead was waving to someone, before she had noticed the two. A weird expression flickered upon her face, seeing them.

Before Dylan could address them, a distinctive voice came up.

"What are you guys doing here?"

The three of them glanced at the direction from where the voice was coming from, Alicia.

"Whoa," Dylan said, "this is _weird_." She shot them a curious look, "what are the chances of us bumping into another," the redhead checked her watch, "at this time?"

Both Kristen and Alicia shrugged, though Massie just grinned. "It's really nice to see you guys again." The brunette gave them a genuine smile, to her relief, all three of them smiled back. "You know we should get together and hang out again—."

Her sentence had fallen short, her old friends were no longer paying attention to her, their focus was somewhere else, with _someone_ else. She noticed how all their smiles dropped. And then Massie gazed the same direction, and hers did too.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

A girl emerged before them, alone. She had stringy, auburn coloured hair, light creamy skin and plumped rogue lips. Her eyes were covered by oversized designer sunglasses, her hands were wrapped against a walking stick, the stick was banging against the ground, helping her to locate where she wanted to go.

Massie gasped aloud.

Ripple. _Ripple Baxter._

Suddenly, the hallway felt hot, burning, ashes began to cover the air, the exact sense and feeling that had happened on _that _day.

"Dune?" Ripple called out, she swayed her stick on the ground. "Are you here?"

Massie's face burned. That was right, wherever Ripple was, Dune was there. Her face scrunched, absolutely confused at what was going on. The last time she remembered both Baxter's had gone to separate schools, so what where they doing back here, at Westchester Day? Massie studied her old friends' faces, by their expressions they were thinking the same, aside from Kristen, who was blanched.

The sound of footsteps became louder, a voice piped up, startling the four of them, "I'm _coming_."

"Good," Ripple's sounded relieved. "I don't want to bump into nobody."

"You _won't_—." A pause, it was then he noticed them, and they noticed him. Dune's face hardened, at seeing the old friends. He made his way to Ripple, latching his arm around hers, supporting her. He glowered and scowled, at the sight of the four girls. His cerulean eyes, turned stormy, while taking every little step forward, he casted harsh glares at them. "_Nobody_," Dune spoke up, his voiced matched his exterior, cruel and callous, "nobody is here." His face darkened, "except for, _four lying bitches_."

* * *

**Disclaimer:** Lisi Harrison owns the Clique and Sara Shepard owns Pretty Little Liars.

I've been severely neglecting my stories, sorry about that. I'm hoping to update all my stories, and one of my goals is to make this story up to ten chapters or at least complete the first part before it hits the 1 year mark. It will take time because of school, but also my free time will be taken up due to volunteer and dance classes.

_(Next chapter: the majority will be a flashback!)_


End file.
